scrapologie

Hold close the ones you love.

The news of the shooting at the school in Connecticut has been on my mind for the last few days, and reminds me to cherish every moment with my little one. The light of an innocent life can be put out so unexpectedly and quickly. My heart goes out to every victim of that tragedy. Gather your loved ones and hold them close, for they are what truly matters. When it comes down to it, love is all there is. Love is everything. 

Sharing a video of my own little one's first year of life. I've been feeling nostalgic for her baby days and seeing this video reminds me even more of what a precious gift our children are, they are truly blessings placed in our arms by heavenly angels. Peace to you and yours.

A letter to my daughter

Dear Alekha,

All mothers are excited about the birth of a baby, but I want you to know that I waited for you for what seemed like an eternity. There were long childless years without you, years when I gazed with a heart full of longing at the chubby, rosy cheeked babies that I encountered everywhere. When you arrived, my heart was filled to bursting. I had always read about the love that happens to a woman after the birth of a child, and had often imagined what it would be like. I was ill-prepared for the onslaught of maternal love and the fierce protectiveness that you brought on. I was prepared to slay dragons for you, and felt that I could singlehandedly decimate anyone who tried to harm you.

Nine years have passed since that blissful first year of your birth, and the feelings have not disappeared, but only gotten stronger. You make me laugh at the things you say, you amaze me with your creativity and intelligence, you humble me with your kind, selfless nature, you overwhelm me with your love, and you make me realize that if I accomplish nothing else in life, it matters little, because you are my greatest work of art.

You used to worry that a younger brother or sister would diminish the love I have for you, and I always assured you that could never happen. I always told you that the miraculous thing about love is this: the more you give away, the more you create. You must have finally learned that lesson, for lately, you've been asking for a little sister and don't understand when I tell you it's unlikely that would happen at this point. You asked me today if I was happy that I only had one child. I hugged you in response and told you that I couldn't be happier with the gifts God has given me. Yes, I am happy to have this one child, and I am happy that child is you.

 

Once Upon a Time

 

This was circa 1970, in a beautiful home in Providence, Rhode Island. My father had emigrated to the United States months before bringing us here. That's me -- three years old, in the blue dress at the far right in this photo. My mother is in the silver saree holding my baby sister. And my big sister is in the back in the red dress. I remember this house vaguely. I do remember that it is here that my six year old sister first went to school, and came home with a black eye - she was beaten up because we were one of the few non-white families at that time. Providence has changed since then. We still have a photo somewhere of her smiling up at the camera through her swollen eye. Despite that sad incident, we moved to Cincinnati and my father made the acquaintance of some wonderful people who taught us that not everyone in America would resent us for being different. One of his friends, Norb Schutte, would later visit India with my father and become my Dad's dear friend. Norb and his wife (then girlfriend) Patti would visit us every Christmas and bring gifts for everyone in the family - our first lessons about Christmas and giving. They were truly kind and generous and embodied the spirit of love and friendship in every way. Norb would go on to become a medical doctor and they would have a beautiful family of their own. The landscape and face of America has changed so much since then - the immigrant experience today is not nearly what it was back in the '70s. But I struggled growing up with being different. Through it all, my older sister took the brunt of it - being beat up and getting into verbal altercations with other children who didn't like us, protecting me when I was ready to go to school. She is still sadly suffering the impact of that childhood today. I have some of my own sad memories - too personal to share. But I wouldn't change my Dad's decision for anything. Despite our early struggles, we persevered. We made friends and found the goodness in people. Most of all, we realized that we are American too, and America is part of us. And we realized that here is where we belong.