life, unadulterated
to a child
'To A Child', a poem by Christopher Morley
life, unadulterated
happy birthday to me!
Apparently this year, my birthdays as per the English as well as the Tamil calendars fall on the same day. Today. I must ask Mum more about this but I think it has something to do with the 19-year cycle of the moon (of which I know next to
life, unadulterated
oh, D, you are in school and I miss you so much!
Oh dear D ... my bawling baby ... you cried Mumma Mumma even as your feet willed you to walk alongside Miss LaRoche into school ... Here I am sitting in Starbucks, working on a freelance editing assignment ... it's amazing how much I can get done in a brief span of
life, unadulterated
can you please tell my ego that I am the best parent in the world? or better still, I'll tell it to go take an offing hike.
The first two decades or so of my life were quite literally a string of first ranks and A grades and gold medals and merit certificates and awards and prizes. Anything that I failed to make a mark in (arts and crafts, for instance) was conveniently brushed aside as irrelevant
life, unadulterated
an unexpectedly early interlude to this tragicomedy
Who would have ever thunk that after spending two entire years at home with my little child, I’m feeling completely clueless now as to how to spend a day during the week with him when he doesn’t have to go to school! D was such a brave sweetheart
life, unadulterated
when my child is in school, I wander
When D is in school, I walk. My mind is churning so anxiously with thoughts of him that my feet can’t bear to stay still. The exertion of movement gives me something else to think about. Something to drown out the sound of his cries as he heads towards
life, unadulterated
the beginning of a metamorphosis (a letter to my dear child on his first day at school)
Oh my brave, brave child, “It was a dark, blustery” morning the day you started school. (How fitting that the words that best describe the Universe the morning we dropped you off at school for the first time are the words with which your favourite story begins.)* It had been
life, unadulterated
because the world can indeed turn on its head in the span of a little blog post
So, wishes do come true. In unexpected ways. I finally found a balm to soothe my present anxiety. And where nothing else could help settle my anxious heart for even a moment, here was something that has kept the tears in check and the fears at bay for two whole
life, unadulterated
a journey to the other side of time
I have been an emotional wreck these past couple of weeks. In a completely unanticipated fashion, D’s imminent start of pre-school has unshackled anxieties and fears I didn’t even know lay buried deep inside my subconscious. A lump of fear has taken up permanent dwelling in my
life, unadulterated
Papillon, le passé, and the messy middle
I had been wanting to re-read Papillon for a while now. There was a quote in it about judging; rather, about not judging. Something that Papillon tells two other escaped convicts when they inform him they had killed their mate. I don’t recall Papillon’s response verbatim but
life, unadulterated
the gift of time
The phone call came last summer, shortly before I had completed my last course for the degree I was pursuing. There was a spot available in the Infant Room of a daycare that had opened only the previous autumn. We had put ourselves on the waitlist after a visit in
life, unadulterated
a promise
Seeing how anxious I am about D’s imminent start of school, I promise myself that when he’s away in school, I’ll spend that time working on the only kind of writing that matters ... the one that has to do with magic ... of all kinds ... That alone can