Those who love you…


These are the people we need to keep close.

To buffer all the white noise and  irrelevant misinformation,

And counter the doubters,

Thank you to mine, you know who you are.


Thank You

Dear Loved Ones,

I don’t always have the opportunity to tell you directly how special you are to me. Amid the Hallmark adverts and Christmas music, while I’m watching Charlie Brown cartoons or looking at the art work bought home by the kids I have moments when I’m overwhelmed with gratitude.

I forget the envy that I have for people who have their loved ones close-by and remember that mine aren’t really so far away. Every year as the kids continue to evolve from being constantly needy, to independent, funny, kind and sweet Smart Alecs; the empty hole in my core lessens.

Thank you to my mother, who shows love by her actions, and has always been here with me when I’ve needed her without me even asking .

Thank you to my sisters, who I think sometimes love my children more than I do and never fail to surprise me, good or bad, and without whom I would be lost.

Thank you to family that I don’t always get to see or speak to but are constantly with me, through their blessings and love.

Thank you to friends I don’t talk to as often as I would like, but still make me laugh out loud when I do. You remind me that I am still the same person I was before the responsibilities of adulthood.

Thank you.

I need more hellos …

Why can’t we get all the people together in the world that we really like and then just stay together? I guess that wouldn’t work. Someone would leave. Someone always leaves. Then we would have to say good-bye. I hate good-byes. I know what I need. I need more hellos. 

  ~  Charles M. Schulz


“We never truly know the love of our parents until we become parents ourselves.”  ~~ Henry Ward Beecher

Growing up,  I didn’t hear the words ” I love you”.  Even so I never doubted for a single a moment that I was loved.  My family was not very vocal, affection was shown by action not words.  My parents were orthodox  in the sense that they valued culture and traditional, but modern enough to let us be.  I was given the freedom to pursue what I wished and I knew the boundaries;  I was “a good Indian girl “.

I still don’t know the full extent of sacrifices that they made for us , and doubt I ever will . “That’s just what parents do, nothing special ” my father would say to me. It was special, but I was too selfish to see it then. Trust is equivalent to love ; they trusted me and I trusted their judgment. It was an anchor in my life, keeping me safe.

When I got married and moved to the other side of the world, I missed that anchor. I was with going with the man I loved, and yet somewhere in my deepest psyche a shard of glass pierced my veil of confidence; I wanted that security and warmth, and I realised that  no one truly loves you unconditionally the way that your parents do.

The ultimate weakness of violence ~ Martin Luther King

The ultimate weakness of violence is that it is a descending spiral,

begetting the very thing it seeks to destroy. Instead of diminishing evil, it multiplies it.

Through violence you may murder the liar, but you cannot murder the lie, nor establish the truth.

Through violence you may murder the hater, but you do not murder hate. In fact, violence merely increases hate.

So it goes. Returning violence for violence multiplies violence, adding deeper darkness to a night already devoid of stars.

Darkness cannot drive out darkness: only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate: only love can do that.

Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.


Spring has come to the desert, flowers are blooming and there is a lushness that makes everything feel new.  My sisters have come  down for my son’s B’day . My baby sister (now 24), has to take daily injections in the abdomen to prevent serious blood clotting due to the 12 hour flight.  I haven’t seen her in over a year; a year in which she has had severe  medical complications and scares. Anyone looking at her would never be able to tell. She carries herself with such strength and dignity that it makes me ashamed of my own grumblings.
I am bossy and demanding but they shrug it off and love me anyway.
I don’t know if it is the beautiful weather, the colors of the flowers bursting open, the laughter and banter of the kids,  or the lighthearted ease of being with my sisters that just makes me happy.