“Loss is nothing else but change, and change is nature’s delight.” — Marcus Aurelius
In modern era, too many hushed expectations are set for you if you are a person of my gender. You have to be exceptionally good at everything you do. You have to look beautiful from morning to night year after years. You have to make a home. You have to be perfectly congenial, at least as your virtual reality. You have to be the best mother that social media ever produced. You have to create a perfect human. You have to make magic in the kitchen. You have to hold a smile until your lips hurt. And if there is time, you have to shatter some glass ceilings, while looking like a diva. You have to chase your dreams after doing the dishes in night. You have to make your life worth living. You have to leave a legacy.
While I hardly tried to meet any of these expectations ever, this year I transformed to this stronger, and calmer woman who spent time cautiously to make a good life, crafted stories, made time to read tons of books to follow her new year resolutions, helped a budding reader to grow, and celebrated womanhood with curves, and calculations.
That way this has been my year. A year of transformation- calmly, silently. Only I know what I endured and who I have become.
I owe my year to good carbohydrates, words, and sleepless nights that gave me time to poetry.
I owe my year to poems.
I owe my year to my little human.
I owe my year to kindness of strangers.
I owe my year to jars of almond biscottis that kept me happy, wordy, and motivated when I went through a bout of writer’s block.
I owe my year to Marcus Aurelius and Seneca.
I owe my year to spring and autumn in California sunshine.
I owe my year to my phone camera, for capturing little joys that memory couldn’t.
Now back to these photographs here. I have been photographing this tree in my neighborhood for twenty two days now.
In last three weeks, it has gone through changes. We saw sunny mornings, and stormy nights. Cold November rain hurt most of the pretty leaves of my neighborhood.
But see how calmly it stands, after going through so many rude awakenings, after letting go of all pretty leaves.
Don’t we all want to be like this tree- strong, calm, and forgiving, after all the transformations, in the winter of our lives?
Wishing all readers a happy Thanksgiving in advance. I’m grateful for having another year with you.