I look at my last post and wonder about all the posts that were written only in mind, only to be forgotten since I didn't actually pen it down. I wish I could open the memory book in my head just as easily as I am able to locate posts from my archives list here. Much happens in two years and much remains the same. Cycle of life plays out in front of my eyes as I see my aging mother and growing children. Life slowing down for the aging parent and speeding up for the children going into higher grades. Less to do for one and too little time for the other.
Today is precious, I realize. A million thoughts crowd my mind. The column I read this morning over coffee about how rent to own furniture stores are popping up in the South because the low income groups cannot afford to have any decent furniture that they have to pay for upfront. They get steeper into debt and sucked into further poverty. Poverty must be horrible I think to myself. In that same page I read this article and felt deeply sorry for what the parents were going through. I always had the same opinion - abduction is worse than death. I hope they get lucky, I pray to myself.
As I cook dinner for Amma, I think of all the dishes waiting to be loaded in the dishwasher, kids to be sent upstairs in time for bed, clothes waiting to be transferred to the dryer and having to wake up early to water the plants before I take DD (used to be known as Kutti Girl KG here) to piano class. Sigh. What a lot of never ending chores to do. No, I should not complain, I think to myself. People have real issues. Every single whining thought that runs in my mind makes me feel like an ingrate considering the blessings I have today. Things can be better always but nothing to complain about. I joke to H (husband) often that it's downhill from here on and we better enjoy these precious years. Kids need us, want to talk to us, we have energy to run around with them, watch the miracle of growth in front of our eyes, experience learning along with them. Mindfulness as a parent is not to be underestimated in how much joy it can bring if one consciously practices it. Sometimes I realize my brow is furrowed with worry over trivial issues - this class or that class, why did she say that, did DS (dear son) really understand that math problem etc and I physically force myself to just go into a smile position to relax and try to do some balasana for a few seconds. So much to be thankful for today I remind myself.
It feels good to write my thoughts again. I miss writing. I wish I could write in a way that it flows like music. When I read some good writing, it does feel like a beautiful song to me. Even if it does not flow like music, it just feels good to write after a long break. I hope I am able to keep this up and write more often just so I remember some small tit bits about how life was when I was look back after many years. I miss reading some of my old blog pals many of whom are not blogging any more. I enjoy reading the few that are still blogging who I read every now and then. I find it difficult to keep in touch with most people and I wonder who remembers me. It feels like a train journey, passengers in and out, but you keep traveling to your destination. For now, I like the station I am in and I am enjoying the view from the window!
