Posted by


I watch you as you bend to place something in your overnight bag for the umpteenth time. Your forehead is creased with lines. Laugh lines. Worry lines. Anxiety lines. Sad lines. The lines that tell me the story of your life.

I stand by the stove stirring the boiling pot of water with specks of ginger and a hint of cardamom. I turn and see your neck is angled and your eyes close involuntarily. Your feet are up and I feel a wave of love sweep over me.

For the past few weeks you have been buzzing around like a helper bee taking over kitchen chores, feeding the kids, cleaning up after them, clearing the sink and loading the dishwasher with nary a complaint. You do it out of love. The kind that I have been privy to the past few years. The boundless one way street that is a parent to a child.

We sit by each other sipping the tea in companionable silence. I notice the callused feet and wish I could soothe them away. The years have taken a toll on you. I try to blink back tears.

I type away on a document doing work as you put finishing touches to dinner. Another few hours and you will be away spending two weeks with my sister and your grand-daughter. It dawns on me that I will miss you like never before.

I open the fridge to grab yogurt for the kids and my eyes fall on a clear box full of cut vegetables. Knowing you will not be here to help me cope with the morning rush, you have done all that you can to make life easier for me.

I give in. To this emotion that has been welling up all day. A mixture of gratitude, love and affection. I grab my daughters and we envelop each other in a group hug and I miss you more than ever.

I love you and miss you Amma

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.