To Mom, With Love (From 8000 Miles Away)

A collection of dog-eared memories, to celebrate you.

My phone buzzes at 5 pm sharp. A WhatsApp message from my mother, who’s just waking up at 530 am in India.

Mom: Hi… all okay?

Me: Yes. There?

Mom: Okay here too. Going to make tea. Talk in a bit.

In these seemingly terse words is hidden an ocean of fathomless love and concern.

As our opposite time zones lead us in different directions (she makes breakfast while I get dinner ready), this twice-a-day ritual is a lifeline that keeps us going through our respective days.

Sometimes we get to chat for longer. Many days, these hurried messages are the only conversations we manage to have.

I haven’t seen my parents in over a year now. And I don’t know when I will be able to visit them next in a manner that’s safe for us and for them. Some days, the anguish of not knowing, of staring down a never-ending passage of time, completely unhinges me.

Most days, though, I refuse to let myself think about it. My mother and I, we have a rule. We don’t talk about ‘when’. We talk about ‘now’.

It keeps us sane.