I wish there was a better way to put this. But there is none as resplendent and alive like feeling it.
I visited my mamma last week, amidst her falling health and her mind in despair – I sensed the low in her voice, not uncharacteristic but this time, with a prick that was new, sharper, uncompromising. Her voice on the phone unsettled me no bounds, something that didn’t happen to me in general. While seeking permission at work to go, see her, my voice broke midway my request, my defenses unable to hold the ruinous sentiment swamping my heart from spilling it. And I came rushing home.
It has been 4 days since I am here and I see the change in her – her health has improved, her visage is brighter, her voice has gained its spirit back. No, I haven’t done anything except….except just be with her.
Talking with her endlessly, listening to her fears and wishes, laughing with her, going shopping with her for gupchup, brewing iced tea with her, giving her company as she watched the mindless soap operas, slurping malai kulfi with her, bathing our Labrador together, embracing her and drifting into sleep when night dawned upon us. To see her gain her color from nothing else but the feeling of seeing her daughter and being assured of her proximity was heartwarming, fulfilling and deeply rewarding.
To hold the flower of love and gratitude in our hearts is synonymous of, perhaps, the most fragrant season in our lives. I wish you have one, and it multiplies. And for that, let your gardener know you love them and are grateful of their presence and protection.