I have been away from Pakistan for almost 20 years now and only have been able to go back four times. I have daydreamed of reuniting with my mother since I stepped into the airport to leave her behind. I experience the constant longing to return to my mother, to home, when I am watching a sunset; from the sudden whiff of jasmine flowers on the footpath, from the smell of ittar I wear; while making biryani from shaan spices packed in Pakistan; on Eids, on birthdays, on my leaving home anniversary date and month; on labels on towels reading made in Pakistan in our local supermarket shelves and in the pages of Urdu novels and poetry; from the lyrics of songs; from twirling between my fingers the locket my mother gave me to ward off evil; when I raise my hands to pray at the end of the fajr prayer; when I get sick and want my mother to nurse me back to health – when living. I have a powerful unshakeable spiritual bond with my mother. The dream I share in this piece, as interpreted by my mother, is a desire to return home and the testimony of my love for her.