We drove back from my brother’s home with my mom in the back seat. In the quiet silence of the night, I marveled at how much my relationship with amma had morphed with the passage of time. From being a person I rebelled against to someone I now look up to, I understand her better now than I ever did. Her anxiety, her possessiveness and her love.
As Saathi snored in the bedroom overhead, amma and I sat in our living room waiting for the milk to cool down before we added sour curds to it to make yogurt. Conversation ranged from U.S vs India, belief in astrology, in law relationships, how we were as babies and perspectives. As we argued about how we as a culture expected too much out of our children I found myself debating and at times hurting her even with what I thought were perfectly valid points. I almost forgot I was talking to amma not a friend. The differences in the way we were brought up was evident. As we were ready to call it a day and go to bed I realized there was nothing more joyful than an open respectful relationship with amma. We might not see eye to eye but the fact that we could express our feelings and thoughts without reserve was something I cherished.
So, today morning as I work sitting on my recliner I watch her cut vegetables and make lunch for Saathi and I and I feel an overwhelming sense of affection and love. Gratitude for all that she has done and continues to do. As she hands me two pieces of perfectly made toast, I smell her love along with the ghee.
Truly, this is life at its best. To love and be loved in return