And that feeling when I came home the first time after my father passed away and that feeling when I came home after my mother passed away and suddenly I had no home to come home to.
Thank you for helping me remember exactly what it was like when they opened the door to welcome me home.
Dear Alaknanda, this was full of love. For the little girl within us who never really grew up, the one that her parents doted over, the one that is free from the cares of the world. She needs to come back to her nest to recharge and be re-filled with parental love. Thank you for writing this for all of us. I will remember this essay next time I go home and ring the bell.
I just loved it. The limbo and the father's footsteps following my mother. I too have lost my father but could see him in your piece. Beautiful for loss of better words.
I love the mastery with which you traverse time in this essay - the limbo of the now, the certitude of the tomorrow - the hardest thing to do, especially when we're hurtling towards home so that time can stop for a while and we can be children again ❤️
...be children again! Sometimes when my daughter thinks I am weird for still telling her what to do, I remind her of my mom shouting at me for leaving my hair wet too long or some other equally nonsensical thing😅
Alaknanda, you do that magical thing , that all of us struggle with, so easily - showcasing the multifaceted beauty hidden in our ordinary, simple moments. Loved this piece. ❤️
That was beautiful! I remember that feeling.
And that feeling when I came home the first time after my father passed away and that feeling when I came home after my mother passed away and suddenly I had no home to come home to.
Thank you for helping me remember exactly what it was like when they opened the door to welcome me home.
🤗
Such a beautiful read! Thank you for writing and sharing this ❤️
Thank you for sharing it, Doel! I missed it and only found it mentioned in your essay. So glad I found that at least!
Yayy - super ❤️
What an evocative essay- such universal emotions. And if ever you come by Kolkata and want to have home madeShukto and Maacher Jhaal let me know.
What is this if not Ochre Sky Magic!!🩵💖💖🩵
Dear Alaknanda, this was full of love. For the little girl within us who never really grew up, the one that her parents doted over, the one that is free from the cares of the world. She needs to come back to her nest to recharge and be re-filled with parental love. Thank you for writing this for all of us. I will remember this essay next time I go home and ring the bell.
🩵🤗🩵🤗
my heart hurts and smiles at the same time. I will have to collect myself before I say more. the warmth, the pictures, the love . thankyou Alaknanda .
🤗🤗
I just loved it. The limbo and the father's footsteps following my mother. I too have lost my father but could see him in your piece. Beautiful for loss of better words.
This is so relatable, Alaknanda. Love those warm pictures the most!
This is so reminiscent of Pune for me! Thanks for writing and sharing ❤️
Just so beautiful Alaknanda. Home is so many things for so many of us.
🤗
I love the mastery with which you traverse time in this essay - the limbo of the now, the certitude of the tomorrow - the hardest thing to do, especially when we're hurtling towards home so that time can stop for a while and we can be children again ❤️
...be children again! Sometimes when my daughter thinks I am weird for still telling her what to do, I remind her of my mom shouting at me for leaving my hair wet too long or some other equally nonsensical thing😅
Alaknanda, you do that magical thing , that all of us struggle with, so easily - showcasing the multifaceted beauty hidden in our ordinary, simple moments. Loved this piece. ❤️
🤗 Ordinary is a word I like. There is something so solid about it!