You know those nights when you think that you won’t make it to tomorrow? and then she just holds you and just sits with you. doesn’t try to tell you that it’ll get better or don’t cry. she just lets you cry and be. And she lets you curl up in her bed and just lie there and be panicky and she sees you shaking and asks if it would be okay for her to hold your hand and you don’t know what to say. yes hold my hand. you make me feel safe. you’re one of the very few people who make me feel safe. how or why i do not know because i haven’t known you for that long but i love you. if i know what love is, that is.
Again, i don’t usually write like this. i usually write with good punctuation and proper capital letters and all that stuff. but lately i have just been writing whatever i’m thinking and in whatever way i’m thinking. if this is what comes out when i sit down to write then this is what i’m going to post. this post was written so furiously and i don’t know i guess i just had to get it all out and i didn’t want to wait to put capital letters properly and all that.
My sister and I slept in my mom’s room that night.
We left the dining room light on.
The phone rang sometime around half past 2
And we knew.
In hushed voices my mom told me take care of my sister
(like that needed to be said)
and she went to wake dida up.
Sometimes I feel like I wasn’t me in those few days.
Well I was me but it was strange, more mechanical.
When his body was brought home for the last rites
I was told to stay in the kids’ room with my sister and cousin
The room door opened, my mother had come to get something.
13 year old me, very curious; peeked outside.
Heard someone wailing.
I was wearing black shorts and an off white top that day.
I insisted I wanted to go for the cremation.
Sorry this is such a disjointed piece. I was pretty much just thinking and typing and I usually don’t like these kinds of things cuz I don’t want to edit my thinking. I don’t know if that makes sense but yeah. Also, “All I Could Do” is the tittle of a song by Kimya Dawson and I was listening to it while writing and I think it fits perfectly!
The sound of her talking to the gardener wakes me up in the morning
the sound of her watering the plants
she’s the keeper of the plants even takes care of the ugly ones
and that’s how I know that she’ll take care of me.
She’s like a radio playing the same old Bengali songs on repeat
that my dadu used to play on that old stereo
the one that only played cassettes
and that’s how I know that she misses him.
She’s an alarm that goes off every Thursday evening
asking whether I’m coming home that weekend
tries to tempt me with aloo posto and chicken biryani
and that’s how I know that she needs me.
The aloo posto, the half smile while she hums that one song, the flowers she wants me to photograph, they say it all.
This is just something I wrote about my dida (grandmother)
Dadu means grandfather
Aloo Posto and chicken biryani are names of some of my favourite dishes.
I had to read Amir Khusrau’s poetry for my Great Books class and I came across these lines in one of the poems and I fell in love.
“You always tell me, ‘My elixir
is sweet.’ If you ask Khusrau, darling,
he’ll tell you that it’s poison, too.”
Also, if it’s not obvious enough, I LOVE spoken word poetry. And while I can never pick a favorite poem, I really like this one so here you go!
Happiness is seeing your little sister smile as she finally learns to tie her own shoe laces.
Happiness is seeing your student get a twinkle in their eye as they finally understand that pesky math problem.
Happiness is seeing your mom cry tears of joy at your graduation.
Happiness is erupting into laughter in the middle of class over an inside joke with your friends.
Happiness is seeing your friend eat after starving herself for so long.
Happiness is reading a book that soothes your soul.
People say happiness is elusive, but is it really?
Happiness is the little things in life, it’s everywhere.
You just have to open your eyes, mind and soul to it.
This post is part of the Happiness Project hosted by Sydney. This is a really cool project and you should definitely check it out and her blog is definitely worth reading! 🙂
You’ve been gone a long while now
And yet I still miss you as much.
I miss how your nose crinkled up when you laughed
And I miss how you could always make me laugh.
And even though I think about you everyday,
I’m learning to live without you, day by day.
Kind of realizing that you can miss things,
Without wanting them back in your life!
I have been sitting here for a while now, trying to write something for you.
Something to make you believe that I do mean it when I say I love you and I’m here for you.
I understand that you’re scared and I’m scared too.
But please let me in, I won’t hurt you.
I know you’re hurting baby girl,
I know it feels like it’s all too much.
But hold on just a little longer,
Because life won’t always be such.
I keep thinking I’m done
Done thinking about you,
Done pining over you.
But when I see you,
Laugh the way you do,
And talk the way you do,
I don’t know if I’ll ever get over you!
What do you do
When home doesn’t feel like home?
When all you crave is someone’s arms around you?
What do you do
When your bed is no longer comforting?
When all you want to do is cry?
What do you do
When sleep doesn’t come easy to you?
When sleeping is all you want to do?