the mother of all....
To get an adequate amount of Tanya in to serve for my 8 month absence the last couple of weeks have been a process of visiting, updating people on our plans, practicing our head waggling and mostly answering the same question "where are you going to be flying into"? To which the cleaner at work thinks the answer is China as opposed to Chennai, obvious 20 years in the great southern land has done nothing for my English.
This week was a family visitation, particular with the women of my clan; we are three generations me, my mother and her mother my grandmother. Years ago we had a photo together when my grandmother pointed out the importance of three generations all being together and I have always felt that significance whenever there's a gathering. Having said all that relations are sometimes tense and understandings between us blurred, the gap of generations showing in our language and how we communicate. Slowly I am learning the histories of my mother and my grandmother and understanding what it is that makes them the brave and strong women they are, and although histories can be learned and our similar features drawn out as we all age, I am still amazed by the small pockets of information within our genes, the way I pick my nails and fingers exactly like my grandmother does, and my walk which is unmistakably like my mothers. I am a scholar and understanding for me comes from within the mind and head, but perhaps those small actions and mannerisms that make us distinctly us are carried within our very bodies so that just being together humming along making sweets is enough to communicate the extent of our connection and affection for each other.
Returning to India to see where we were all born, is going to be something of an experience which will fill some of the gaps, where we are born after all is as integral to our stories and identities as the women were are born to. An ode to the women in my life who are mothers those who share my blood lines and my friends, living with the expectancy of a child is something I am still able to do, but this weekend I realised that the generosity of a mother is something I am yet to understand fully.
This week was a family visitation, particular with the women of my clan; we are three generations me, my mother and her mother my grandmother. Years ago we had a photo together when my grandmother pointed out the importance of three generations all being together and I have always felt that significance whenever there's a gathering. Having said all that relations are sometimes tense and understandings between us blurred, the gap of generations showing in our language and how we communicate. Slowly I am learning the histories of my mother and my grandmother and understanding what it is that makes them the brave and strong women they are, and although histories can be learned and our similar features drawn out as we all age, I am still amazed by the small pockets of information within our genes, the way I pick my nails and fingers exactly like my grandmother does, and my walk which is unmistakably like my mothers. I am a scholar and understanding for me comes from within the mind and head, but perhaps those small actions and mannerisms that make us distinctly us are carried within our very bodies so that just being together humming along making sweets is enough to communicate the extent of our connection and affection for each other.
Returning to India to see where we were all born, is going to be something of an experience which will fill some of the gaps, where we are born after all is as integral to our stories and identities as the women were are born to. An ode to the women in my life who are mothers those who share my blood lines and my friends, living with the expectancy of a child is something I am still able to do, but this weekend I realised that the generosity of a mother is something I am yet to understand fully.
posted by My Little Life at 11:09 AM
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