I am thinking of my grandmother today as I prepare to travel to the south of India to meet my sister and my mother. We will meet in Kerala, near the water. This is where my sister spends her time in the Ashram. She has been there for a long time now.
I am thinking of Baba Dear especially today maybe, because the other day as I was walking in Asan – the shopping area where all the locals go in Kathmandu – and I noticed the fabrics, textures, and colors that would have also called to my grandmother. Even though she won’t paint any of them, I took pictures for her anyways.
Maybe, because the Christmas holiday is coming soon. The time when we would usually sit around and tell stories, comment on the abundance we are so lucky to have, the sustenance and joy of home cooked holiday food. And when we’d all try out a new game together. Baba Dear was always up for a good game.
Maybe, because I will be with my mother and sister together for the first time in almost two years. We, a continuation of my grandmother. A continuation of her story.
Maybe, because just before my sister left back to India for good, my grandmother’s health was getting worse and worse. And then she died a few months after that. I remember acutely the pain of one loss followed by the other.
This journey to visit my sister is like going home. My sister is home, and my mother is home. We plan to sing Christmas Carols to children in Kerala on Christmas evening. But, like Nepal, anything is possible in India.
It feels freeing to be away from the craziness of TV commercials, fake Santas, piped-in music, the pressures of too many parties and sweets.
And traveling towards remembering what I love most about Christmas and family: honoring the abundance that we have in our lives with simple gestures and intangible gifts. Enjoying stories, games, and bright colors that stand out from the darkness. Exploring the textures of life that are complex, soft, strong, intertwining, moving away, and then coming back together again.
