I sit in the silent living room, the silence accentuated by the sounds of my fingers flying on the keyboard. I sit trying to make sense of the meltdown I just witnessed. Ammu, for forty-five minutes today you wept. Distraught and inconsolable. The only words you kept repeating were “Daddy”. I held you close, I rocked you. I scolded you, tried to ignore you. I finally resorted to leaving you in your crib, walking away and moping in the dark. The cries muted and eventually you fell asleep. I waited a good half hour and tiptoed back into the partial darkness of your room. I stood by your crib deciphering your shape and my palm hovered above your head trying to transfer some of the love that seemed to radiate from it. Hoping that your subconscious will recognize what the conscious mind does not.

It was your birthday today. I wished you every possible moment I could. Stealing kisses and caressing your soft cheeks each time I passed you. I revelled in seeing you in bright spring-y dresses. Yet, there was no cake, no streamers, no gifts. At least none from Appa and I. Just a whole lot of love. Love and fervent wishes for a happy, healthy, safe life for the two of you.

I am sure the very many birthdays ahead will be celebrated with much fanfare but the one thing that will remain constant is how much you are loved, how much you are wanted in our lives.

Happy birthday my dearest Ammani and Pattani. I love you.


Author. Parent.

One thought on “Bittersweet

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