"in the end I want my heart to be covered in stretch marks"

While my sister spoke to me over the telephone, I spied a smudge on the kitchen counter and assiduously swiped at it clockwise and anti-clockwise with a dishcloth.

I guess I was hearing her words but hadn't yet made sense of what she'd said.

My mom is in the ICU. She may need to go on a ventilator. She may have had a heart attack. All of this still sounds unreal. She was just here two days ago, being her usual self.

Before my sister's call, I had started today's post with this: The gentle, brilliant spoken-word poet Andrea Gibson, who died yesterday, once wrote “In the end I want my heart to be covered in stretch marks.” And I too want to stretch my heart wide with love and what it means to be human and alive and brave. But I can't handle the thought of my mom struggling to breathe.

back

The two on the left are now back in Bangalore.

I started the day stupid sad, but got progressively better as I crossed tasks off my to-do list.

Pic: From family dinner the day before they left. Amma, Chelli, Huck, At, Nu, and Max. I love everyone so much.... but have to say, Huck is the best poser.

airport picnics and no buenos

Today was goodbye. This second week really raced past. My dad is so awesome for managing by himself for two weeks... I really couldn't ask for a longer visit. But it was difficult saying goodbye. 

We found a four-leafed clover to pack for travel good luck. And Nu helped me with the big suitcases and Big A managed to jenga us into one car with all the luggage despite his dinged-up elbow.

When we got to the airport, it turned out that one of their four suitcases weighed more than allowed (50 lbs). So I repacked it so it (and the other suitcases) came in at 49.5. I felt like a hero because we avoided the 100$ fine. 

And I felt like a superhero when our little airport picnic of Parsi omelette sandwiches and veggies from the garden was pronounced perfect. But then they had to head for their gate via TSA and that's when my hero and superhero mantle crumbled and I (we all) (predictably) cried a bit.

And I cried lots more when I got home because Nu and Big A were there to be comforting. My poor long-suffering Big A--I spiraled a bit about my mom growing old, my sister not having a job, and how climate change is going to disproportionately affect places like India.

Anyway... we ate leftovers for dinner (yesterday's ratatouille and yogurt bread) and then I found a giant package of Kinder Bueno that my mom hadn't been able to fit into her luggage and left behind. I try not to eat questionably sourced chocolate, but this package was already here and Nu can't eat it (tree nut allergy), so I set to work. I've eaten seven (maybe eight) things this evening. Each one has two bars. 

Pic: Amma and me. Photo by Chelli (baby sis). 

from here to go-dhuli

our words tear paths

as if we are oracles

our touch gathers

courage as though 

there's no law for it 

mosquitoes now follow us home 

knocking on our window panes

like tiny trickster castaway birds

who are also sorrowful orphans 

it is yet a quiet sky

as the clouds go by 

in the long intimacy

of anguish, a golden

go-dhuli dust blooms

my mother has promised us love

and it is in this clearing: quiet as--

wary as-- gentle as-- worn as-- cattle

waiting and gentling into another time

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Note: Go-dhuli, literally "dust of cows" in Sanskrit, the golden hour of sunset when cattle return home; it is considered to be a beautiful and auspicious time and is a nostalgic trope. Cows are revered as archetypal mothers (Go-matha) in Hindu-Indian culture. (I mean, that's where "holy cow" as an expression probably came from!?) Also, my mom and I have a very silly, longstanding act where we play cow and calf.

____________________________

Pic: Nu's photo of Chelli, Huck, Max, and me reading in the afternoon. (Or Chelli and I are trying to anyway.)

home and away

My India fam is back from the trip to visit friends and we've been inseparable all day. Time is running out. This is likely my mom's last trip to the U.S. I don't feel like I can ask her to undertake 24-hour travel for me again. It's tough facing it, but my once irrepressible mom is not as hearty or hardy. 

My sis and I have shared all the hacks and jokes we'd been saving up for each other. And she now knows all my walking paths, so when I send pictures of scenery, she'll know where they came from.

Big A is doing ok... It's his first wipeout in 35+ years of bicycling and I think that hurts the most.

Three nice things for me this week: 1) I got randomly picked as volunteer of the month at Helping Women Period and I shared that on social media in case other people wanted to get involved too. 

2) I got an email from the colleague who runs the travel abroad program conveying some generous remarks from a student. That was nice in itself. I didn't realize until I got a thank you from the provost that the colleague had copied other people too. I thought that was extra magnanimous.

3) One of the editors of a recent thing I sent off wrote to another editor about my piece: "Isn't this just wonderful?" It's not much and doesn't mean anything in terms of production--but it just seemed so cheerful and unfiltered, it has made me smile every time I've thought of it. 

Pic: Huck and Max. A bit serious--they like the extra pets with extra fam around, but they're not sure they like sharing me.

never a dull moment

I had looked forward to today--on the family calendar as a college orientation day for Nu. But when we got to orientation, kids and families were separated early in the day and I didn't see Nu again until pick up time. Nu met their roommate, gathered some some people who followed them around, got some swag and their ID, and generally seemed to have had a lot of fun. I made the best of things.

After making us dinner, I was looking forward to an evening of quiet reading while Big A went off to ride with his bicycling club and Nu watched old episodes of Rupaul to recuperate from the day... but I got a text message from Big A's Garmin that he'd been in a crash and I was his emergency contact. 

Luckily, although he'd wiped out, Big A is alright. We went to the E.R. to get his road rash cleaned and to get some stitches, and that's where I got my quiet reading in this evening. We're back home now.

here's an idea...

Pic: Here it is in all its gritty glory: "the reason you should care... is not that it could happen to you but that it is already happening to others." This is from Marsha Gessen's crucial piece in the NYT from earlier this year. I can't understand why countries seem to be constantly at war with their poorest and most marginalized citizens here and everywhere.

My India fam is visiting with friends until Friday morning. Another friend may come to us from Friday to Sunday (when they will leave). Yesterday's lunch choice was IHOP ( a solid choice) but I slipped up and got into a debate about politics (bad choice). 

I wonder if this is why I live so far away? I don't know that I could take people I love so much saying stuff all the time like, "But if you give the poor things for free they'll become lazy and won't work." When I heard that, I went hot and my voice got very quavery. I know how precarious the day-to-day is for so many people and how hard they work at all sorts of things so they can stay alive. 

And then I heard it, the constant chorus from my childhood: "Don't be so idealistic."

But why the heck not?