Failure

Im sure Im not the only one that hates failure.

It makes me feel small, insecure and like I cant do anything right. It almost makes me want to climb in bed with an endless supply of series & popcorn.

I get angry with myself: angry for reacting too harshly.  I get frustrated with myself for not seeing this coming, for making the wrong decision. I keep thinking that I should have known better.

At night, when I lie in bed listening to the night sounds around me – my failures haunt me. The people I’ve hurt by speaking too harshly, by saying something that was better left unsaid and the relationships that failed.

I lay in bed, haunted by my failures.

Mornings bring new beginnings, and for a moment the tree outside my window soothes my soul.

Perhaps I’ll do better today.

I’ll try to be kinder.

To listen better.

To encourage, love and understand.

Tiny

I grasped as my friend told me over email that she was expecting. My heart sat in my throat as I thought back to the first day we met. 

She was 18 and had moved to the Big City with her best friend, to study. 

I love her like a little sister. I worry about her like a big sister would.  

She is having a little girl.  A little tiny human, which will eventually grow up to be a fully-grown human. 

I got teary eyed when she messaged me with the news that they could see the brain, the spinal cord, intestines and the three veins feeding her., in the last scan.  A miracle.

A little tiny miracle, so beautifully woven together.  And since I just jpassed High school Biology, I cannot remember all the ins &outs, but I remember even at 17 being amazed at how many things come into play with a pregnancy.

Its at a time like this that I cannot help but believe in God. 

My God creates life the size of a bean.

What I found at the other end

The stamp is like being welcomed to a party without knowing anybody.
Watching the world laugh, love and cook.
And not being part of it.

Until..
One day.

The women who pulled me out of harms way
The guy at Mother Dairy, asking about your life story.
The guy who took you to eat paan.
The northeasterner who taught me about her special relationship with chillies...

The trees in Lodi garden
The wounded raptors
The squirrels
Peacocks screaming in the early morning
Marigolds on door handles and
the praise coming from Temples.

Suddenly, Im home.

The weird became interesting
The colours became garments
The food stalls - loads of little treats.
And the people...
Something I admire.