as i move through

Without an ounce of bite to his tongue Baa asks me why did I spend so much money on gifts for him. And when I say it wasn't much, I really mean it. It wasn't much.   Just earlier today, Baa blinked back tears and choked on his words as he asked me for some cash. I told him I'd go grab my purse and be back in a bit still wondering why this sudden question and the emotional outburst. When I came back he said he wanted his father to have something as a gift from me. My grandfather had passed away when I was a child - barely 4/5. I didn't think much of it in the morning. But now I am on my way to work and can't hold back my tears that well as I draft this. Now, to think that my grandfather received a little gift from me through his son... To think that my Baa feels that I am now able enough to honor his father... The confidence that he now has on me, my abilities... God. I may not amount to much. But please let me always be able to keep my parents' confidence on me,...

Sunflowers bloomed, at every winding turn we took. For every stranger who talked to us, we had a giggle and warm wish. We were two perfect strangers, in a city we both call our home. My lungs breathed in air so sweet, Pure and gentle as they reached me. I watched you walk into the perfect shade under the flickering summer heat. I hoped that your heart felt just as light as mine did. As we watched the valley bathe under a stormy shower, I just wanted time to still. I was present. I was there. I felt alive, after what feels like years, to see home so far away from home.

It's time for my annual season of dread. 

Here's a little rundown of bits and pieces from my memory at 22 years of age because I am suddenly pathetically hit by the lack of it. We were pea-sized, first grade kids when Aabha and I first met. We drifted apart for a few more years before she came back to our school from Pokhara. I was the first kid who recognized her from four years back when she was playing alone at the swings in our schoolyard. She had changed her name, her hair was different, our skin and bones had grown a lot. I just walked up to her quietly, sat on the swing next to her and asked her if she was the kid who had transferred somewhere from our school before. She was. Looking back at this now, it makes my heart fuzzy just thinking about how vivid this memory is inside my brain. I could probably even tell you what direction the wind was blowing in at that moment. And as someone who struggles with memory gaps, this feels like a huge feat, really. I am glad that Aabha and I are still pretty much the same as we ...

In my mind, I had pictured 15 different opening sentences to this blog post. But none of it seems right - all sentences were a whole less brutally honest than I wanted them to be. My blog has been my safe space since I started this back in 2011. I have always come here to let off my biggest secrets, my stories wrapped around in a dozen or so of sentences. This has been my escape. And today I am back here to just let things off of my chest.  I am not the best at reaching out to people. But I am also someone who would leave a note on your desk or text you at a random time just because something else I saw reminded me of you, or if I saw or heard something that I think you'd appreciate, I'd let you know. These days, I have been thinking about this a lot. There are a lot of what-ifs involved but I am just honestly curious. Do people really feel equally guilty for reaching out to people and for not doing so? I often find myself constantly torn between - what if I am being too unnece...