(no subject)
Home truly is where the heart is. And when I am sick, it is divided evenly between my love in Bangalore and my mom. Not my mom as she is now, but some childhood version of my mom, feeding me hot and sour soup and laying a wet washcloth on my chest in the tub. She was a really excellent mom, and I still need her and wish that growing up wasn't so difficult. You get older, you build a family of your own, and you learn to exist as a stalwart of strength for someone else. I'm not ready yet, I leap too soon, and while my life is amazing and my husband will feed me hot and sour soup and lay washclothes on my chest anytime I like, it's just not the same. I know that this isn't always how I feel, and for the most part I am happy with where I am in life, but right now I just want to be babied. By the person who's baby I am and always have been. I miss you Mama, more than you know and more than I have been capable of conveying lately. I hope you can feel this from there, you always have had good mama instincts.