Familiarity

Woke up in the middle of the night unsure of where I was. Was it Dhaka or Chittagong? Khulna or Munshiganj? Jessore or Cox's Bazar?

It came to me in layers and waves: It was my own bed in my own house with the window where it always is. It was familiarity: my own mug with my own tea (a decaf blend) with plenty of milk and sugar.

I've been awake for two hours but feel like I could go out again. Maybe I will. But first, a tribute to the unexpected place where I find myself now:  home.