Between Beginnings and Goodbyes

As a mother of two young kids, I find myself constantly caught between the wonder and chaos in my world, overwhelmed and amazed at the same time. After a full day of work and chores, I tuck the kids into bed and start decorating for my daughter’s fifth birthday. It’s past midnight when I finish, and I continue working until 2 a.m.

I call my mom on the other side of the globe, half afraid of waking her. She hardly notices the time. She asks, “How are the kids?” while telling my dad, “Don’t forget the keys!” and negotiating with my brother, “I need to pack one more thing.” I imagine her pacing up and down the corridors, a dazed look on her face, half-sweaty in the Indian heat of early May. I picture her wiping sweat from her brow, her hair escaping in wild curls. After a few more fragmented exchanges, I reluctantly end the call, a sense of unease lingering.

Today, my parents are taking a giant leap, uprooting themselves from a life spanning over five decades to move to a new city. They have known only one home all their lives. At 18, my mother moved into the house my grandfather bought in pre-independence India after marrying my father. They raised three kids and saw them all leave the nest from this one place. Today they packed all those years into boxes and are moving to a different city to be closer to my brother and his family. As my parents navigate this phase, I am also burdened by the guilt of prodding them to leave behind the home that shaped our lives for the sake of their safety and proximity to family.

I’ve had a love-hate relationship with my childhood home. The familiar, often unpleasant smell of garbage is a backdrop to countless memories. Mentally walking through the house these past few days, I recall the room with the wooden table in the corner, my mother in the kitchen connected to the bedroom, two verandahs looking into the trees in the front yard, the roses, and the smell of jasmine at night. From a little girl to a woman in her 40s, I must say goodbye.

These memories flooded my mind as I decorated for my daughter’s birthday. Caught between two worlds, I was finally able to drift off to sleep. I wake up with my eyes stinging, catching up to the youthful excitement of my daughter and the heavy uneasiness of my parents’ monumental move. As my daughter shuffles and smiles, “It’s my birthday today,” I hug her and both our faces beam radiantly. She is looking forward to the smiley face pancake, her special boxed lunch, the decorations, and her new birthday dress. She is just starting to make memories of her own.

I FaceTime with my parents on the other side. Their smile comforts me, though I still wonder about the emotions they are going through. They wish their granddaughter a happy birthday as they board their flight. I wish them luck for the new chapter in their life. Standing in the middle, I am caught between the hopeful beginnings in my daughter’s eyes and the poignant farewell in my parents’ expressions as they let go of everything they’ve built. I am reminded that life’s bittersweet rhythm intertwines new beginnings with heartfelt goodbyes.