Here’s looking at summer

As I frantically try to match the back-to-school shopping list to the items that keep arriving at my doorstep in brown boxes, I try to pause to appreciate the warm days that are slipping by, slowly but steadily.

Summer was supposed to be different and I can’t say that it was not, compared to last year. Could it have been better? Yes. Should it have been better? YES. But, I am taking what comes my way and am letting myself choose gratefulness and gentleness.

Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.” Victor Frankl

Moving on.

Summer was good. Unexpected moments of peace and happiness filled it up along with the usual dose of crazy. There were trunk picnics and beach time, strolls in the park and just lazying around with family. There was a lot of music and a whole lot of boxes to unpack in our new home. There were lots of new books and play dates too.

We are learning to make this new home ours. We are finding our happy spots and we are finding corners that keep our secrets. We are learning. The little boy’s best friend moved across seas to a different country and he had his first heartbreak. He learned to miss his friend. The baby girl is discovering the joys of riding a tricycle and eating a whole lot of ice cream. I don’t know what the husband man is up to but I am learning, slowly, to be okay with being around people. Sounds strange, doesn’t it.

As the new school year is a few days away, my heart wants to rejoice. Rejoice as my son and his friends will be going to school for the first time, a big step indeed. Rejoice at them being together, learning and being goofy and playing and doing all that six year olds are supposed to be doing. Their face masks will be hiding their big smiles but I am confident the eyes will be shining as brightly as possible.

But I am rejoicing cautiously.

I am relying on the kindness of neighbors and fellow parents when it comes to the mask. I am relying on the fact that they will be doing what is needed to keep all the children, mine and theirs, safe.

And so, as the last week of this year’s summer vacation starts, I am looking at more ice creams in the backyard and extra cuddle time in the mornings. I am looking at family movies and silly finger paintings.I am looking at the brother who just knows what the baby sister wants and I am thinking about the little sister who gives the best hugs. I am looking at the extraordinary in the ordinary.

Thanks for stopping by. Stay safe. Stay kind.

Thoughts on a Monday or any day

It has been a while. I see I have around 9 drafts, all of which I had started with passion and a lot of ideas. And then somewhere in the humdrum of daily life, the ideas fizzled and I ran out of enough energy to revitalize those. A whole lot of nothingness and moments of significance, moments that put the whole act of living in perspective, filled up the space and time in between.

The pandemic has turned everything upside down and in all impossible directions and people probably have had enough of it. I for one, am tired. But when a few months ago, my home country of India got ravaged not only because of the virus but also because of an inept and corrupt administration, for the first time in the last 18 months I felt helpless. This is, however, neither the time nor the place to explain that feeling, but to see loss like I had never seen before, was surely overwhelming. A classmate from high school, who was pregnant with twins, succumbed to the virus leaving behind two extremely premature babies who will have to grow up without their mother. Their mother went to the land of no return without fulfilling her long cherished dream of becoming a mother. A friend lost her parents within a span of 4 days and a cousin bid adieu to her mother over the phone from across the seas. My very best friend is still recovering from the after effects after 4 months and a long hospital stay. These are just a handful of incidents that are by no means isolated or unique. Life is such, I must have read somewhere and perhaps have known, but had never experienced such hopelessness before and that took a toll on me. While there was so much to be thankful for and there still is, it did become a bit difficult this time to hold on to that good. As I read today in an article on EMS personnel in New York, ‘you cannot dip your paintbrush in the wonderful and cover up the tragic’.

But as life goes on, so must we. It is such a storyteller, won’t you agree? And to find the extraordinary in the ordinary rhythms of life is what we strive for, perhaps.

Thanks for stopping by. Stay safe. Stay kind.