Still Home

Someone in class mentioned their favorite teacher walked in,

I looked up—just for a second—expecting Ms. Khushboo’s warm smile.

A voice in the hallway whispered, The principal is on rounds,

And for a fleeting moment, I waited for Ms. Marfatia’s knowing glance.

Someone groaned, English is too tough,

And my heart, out of habit, reached for Ms. Jennifer’s patient words.

Chemistry stared back at me from my notes, tangled and unsure,

And all I wanted was Ms. Ochani’s steady guidance.

The sports day notices went up,

And before I could stop myself, I thought of Ms. Frenchman’s encouragement.

Annual day details were announced,

And I could almost hear the echo of zero periods,

The stomp of rehearsals, the laughter between steps.

I missed Ms. Tiwari’s jokes, the way she made the toughest days lighter,

How her motherly warmth wrapped around us like a safety net.

It’s been over a year since I left Petit,

Yet some instincts refuse to fade—

Like muscle memory, like the pull of a childhood home.

The same teachers who wiped my tears,

Who wrapped me in hugs when I felt lost,

Still live in the corners of my heart.

Time moves forward, but love lingers.

The feeling of home and family never disappears.

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