Memories.

“Just a little bit longer”

P.S. Wordless Wednesday is now on all week. And I start today.

On a very thoughtful night

One of my older posts. This thought had made me so restless that I did not get any sleep. Here goes.

It is a rather restless night. I have been tossing and turning on my bed as a million thoughts race through my mind and leave a lump in my throat.
I think about my mother. Strangely I also think of a life without her. It saddens me. Scares me to imagine that one day she won’t be there. One day she wouldn’t pick up the phone. She won’t spend 35 minutes engaged in a monologue describing accurately every hour of her day. Or sharing all her thoughts. The trivial details of her school. How there has been a small theft. Or how everyone got together and shared prawns and rice for lunch. Some teachers had refused to pay but in the end “they all agree, you know. They paid Rs. 10 each”. She wouldn’t tell me how well the girls are doing. How a girl has been winning debates even in the state level, a first time in the history of the school. How someone has participated in a national level bharatnatyam workshop. Again, a first.
I would miss her telling me what she has cooked and how everything has become so expensive. And why she cannot take cabs anymore. How Baba spoke to her today, how disappointed she has been with her life and how happy she is with me.
She wouldn’t tell me how bothered she is with the American economy and that it is very important for us to go back home….or to “Singapore, you can come home every weekend then. No?”. She wouldn’t share her anxiety over the bugs in my NY apartment, neither the leaking roof would bother her.
She wouldn’t urge me everyday to do my PhD. She wouldn’t keep my spirits high by giving me new recipes to try everyday.
Strangely, we both know the inevitable and accept it with a matured calmness. She has faith in me. As I have always had in her. It has helped both of us to have faith in ourselves.
Yes, one day she wouldn’t be there. And that’s why I spend more than half an hour listening to her voice. So that when the narration stops, the story would always remain. Safe and warm.