Category: Love

Something In The Rain

My middle daughter and I stood by the entrance of the studio where we were for her voice lessons, looking out into the pouring rain. Our car was a short walk away. Mulling over whether to wait for the rain to stop or get wet, I asked her if we should do it kdrama style…

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Mother. Daughter. Mother.

“Skipping time” Amma calls out to my prepubescent youngest child who is upstairs talking to a friend over Facetime. I am in the kitchen doing dishes, amused by the interaction. I hear the sound of jumping upstairs as Laddu counts and jumps a hundred times. She is out of breath but rushes proudly to her…

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Kdrama, Saranghae

“Want to see pictures of my crush?” I ask, a goofy smile plastered on my face. My 13-year-old is scandalized. She reluctantly takes my phone and scrolls through the IG feed I show her. She is quiet and after a beat asks me “Are married women allowed to have crushes?” I laugh out loud. She…

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Anniversary: Twenty Years

Nostalgia is part of who I am. I meticulously track birthdays, death days, wedding days, and anniversaries of all kinds. I used to be able to remember dates. I used to call, email, text until my forties hit me with a vengeance. At my last annual physical, I had trouble recalling words in order. I…

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Building A Sonata

Earlier this week, a friend shared this letter (excerpt 3). Words that have stuck with me for over two decades now when I first discovered Bach and the Bridge Across Forever. There was even a time when I thought I could not get married to someone who cannot discuss stuff like this with me. Eighteen years…

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A Good Man

I am sending some emails when a new one downloads. Saathi the name reads and my face breaks into a smile. Reflexive, something I cannot control. The subject says, “Your PECO bill” and I almost laugh. In the ten days I have been away from home, I haven’t caught myself thinking about him or the…

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Tripping On Memories

  I love looking back. I collect memories. I relive the years gone past. I look into old photographs and see past the people in the pictures. I am transported back to slivers of time preserved in my head. These memories, they swirl in my head like in a pensieve, dragging me along into corridors…

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