On What We Take for Granted

On What We Take for Granted

My dad never cared about Father’s Day. He didn’t buy into the whole commercial-forced-love bit because he thought buying gifts on a random day didn’t carry any true significance. He never craved gifts on his birthday either. He didn’t place...
Grief Then, Grief Now

Grief Then, Grief Now

I walk across the pavement, while I watch the green hummingbird flitting its wings, moving in no discernible rhythm. The second it lands in one place, it seeks refuge elsewhere. My eyes fail to follow the hummingbird’s trek across the desert. Instead I keep...
Seven Years

Seven Years

This week marks seven years since I’ve written in my space, Being Rudri. I remember my first post and the swirl of emotions I felt memorializing my grief about losing my father. That year the landscape of my life felt hazy, blurred and lacked definition. In a...
The Ambivalence of Spring

The Ambivalence of Spring

Spring arrived yesterday. The pink petals caught my attention, highlighting the sandy, desert landscape. I glanced at the unfolding, the complicated layers and how the curves turn corners, disappear and reappear in another home within each petal. The blush of the pink...
I Keep Quiet

I Keep Quiet

The spotlight of grief crowds my pathway. I push it away. I ignore the cracking underneath my feet. The eggshells are only in my mind. No one else sees them. I am too tired to explain. This unnecessary thought, even though no one is asking. To grieve in silence masks...
Ten

Ten

Tonight will be the last night I tuck you in as a nine-year-old. Ten will greet us in the morning. Ten. I keep repeating this number over and over. Each time, tears brim in the corner of my eyes. I remember your first bath in our home, a small apartment in Texas. I...