I am…sitting on a swinging couch next to the cleanest river in India.
I see the bright risen sun through the tree arbor. I see layers of pastel hills and river reflections muddied by the damp humidity. I see my daughter slumped in a caned recliner writing in her own notebook.
I hear a dozen different birds in the trees around me. Crickets chirping in the head-tall grasses that line the pathways to our cottage. Calls of the birds that fly downstream. The whiteness of the waterfall who hides behind the tree trunk.
I taste the grit of a morning french press coffee lining the back of my bottom teeth.
I smell Indian humidity, thick like a whipped buttercream fog. I smell fragrant plants bursting from the jungle that hosts lives with whom I’ve never been acquainted.
I feel hot and sticky and sore from a restless nights sleep, awoken dozens of times by the fast and unbalanced fan who droned throughout the hours. I feel tired of wearing the same shirt that is acceptable but not ideal for the Indian air. I feel challenged by the various needs of my family, all with their own challenges and frustrations and desires and all looking to me for guidance. I feel lucky to be here, knowing that my best memories are often hardest earned, the challenging parts where I solved a problem or suffered through a struggle, and I hope, hope, that we are stronger and wiser and grateful for this chapter when we reflect on it as older selves.
Wow! Hang in there.
I forgot what a good writer you are. The poetry seems to be pouring out of your in India. Maybe it’s the heavy air, sensual and pervasive and taxing. Please remember to take care of yourself as well as the family and let them know that you need taking care of too.
I appreciate your complete picture, and respect your honesty. (Not just the modern social media tendency to put a perfect, polished image out to world.)
You are, as a family of four individuals, travelling to some places very different from home. For a year.
Thank you for your sharing. Our hearts are with your family on this journey, that’s for sure.
The immense beauty that is India seeps out of the edges of your description and feelings. Following Mongolia India must be jarring. Quiet and space juxtaposed with the dusty, crowded, sensual, almost intoxicating, subcontinent is almost too much. Assimilating this…not possible but keep trying, it’s worth it.
Love, dad
Dear Hayes,
I love – and have always appreciated – the honesty of your observations <3
Thank you all for the kind words. We are thinking of you all back home, especially those in CA who are also greeted by orange sunrises, and hoping you and your loved ones are safe.