Missing, misses, miss

I have a strong attachment with words. I am fond of them. They exhibit my mind and sentiments. Cathartic.

They typify me as a writer and journalist.

Recently, I am looking at the root word 'miss'.

One word , many definitions.

That is the beauty of words although some lament more meanings lead to confusion and mistake.

(I)

Have you ever dislike a place only to find a strange, overwhelmed feeling after a re-visit?

I passed by this abandoned place one night. I admit that I dislike it when I was there.

Somehow, I was overwhelmed as I entered this place after leaving it for such a long period of time.

At a corner, I saw myself walking across the lake on the way to catch up with my buddies.

I recalled the hanging banner informing the musical concert which I enjoyed to watch.

It is often as such , isn't it ? Leaving and returning gave the sense of  misses.

(II)

Staying in a foreign country which is relatively largely better than your own doesn't often appear glorious.

Despite the comfort and convenience, you just sense (slowly but surely) something is missing.

Perhaps, no matter where we go in this universe, our origin never walk away from our heart.

(III)

It is inevitable to live  far away from the one we miss , those who are dear to us when we have to leave whatever the reasons may be. Right now, I miss the hugs, kisses, words, my green warrior and obviously my home.