that it's only a doorway, that I'm only a door

So I go bravely before memory
pet my parents so gently
and secretly check 

that they breathe

the day begins or it does not
I can no longer joyride

on his shoulders or
straddle her hip

I fly them in on my thoughts
my rictus of yearning 

like a formal exit 

finding a soul

to write them everywhere 

like graffiti, follow

them everywhere 

like a ghost

______________

Note: There was a period in childhood where I was terrified my parents would die in their sleep. (They were perfectly healthy; everyone's parents in books were always dying though.) I would usually check their breath from the doorway of their bedroom. But my mom says she's woken up to me standing by her bed. (I might have died if I woke up to find someone staring down at me.)

____________________

Pic: Nu and I loved this puzzle we found at the bookstore, and we loved that someone had already put all the pieces together!

Oh, and Happy World Poetry Day!

trash turtles all the way down

I was worried about a dear friend who'd had open heart surgery last week. It made me feel a little better when I got to see their dear face while I dropped off some medication I'd picked up (they can't be alone, so I could either stay with them while their partner picked up the meds or pick up the meds while their partner stayed with them). 

I hadn't heard a peep out of my mom or sis for a whole day. So when the phone rang around 2 am, just as I was putting the puppies and the house to bed, I freaked the fuck out because I thought something was wrong with either my friend or my mom and dad. But no, it was just my mom calling to chat. I think she was a bit thrown off by DST too? Anyway. 

After that, I kept trying to read myself to sleep. Big A was at work, and then he texted to say he'd been attacked by a patient. That was it for sleep last night. I was so sad and worried for him and made him send me pictures and cried over all the scratches and bruises I could see.

And I got to hear the whole story today... I am sad for the patient suffering a psychotic episode in prison and then again in the hospital. I am sad for the security guard who gets paid minimum pay and is expected to put his life on the line--he got attacked first and Big A was trying to help him him when he got attacked too. There are no villains here. It's just awfulness all the way down. I'm just thankful there were no guns involved.
_______________________________
Pic: This made me laugh when I went thrifting this weekend because I needed new books for our Little Free Library (I got some awesome ones). I didn't get these books. They both have the same title--One Bite at a Time--it's just that they couldn't be more different in content: one is a book of recipes for cancer survivors and their caregivers and the other a collection of horror short stories!

a very short journey to Varanasi

when  the priest  says it's time to wed

the groom declares he must leave now

he will go on a pilgrimage to Varanasi 

where  he yearns to become a scholar 

the  bride's brother  hurries after  him

with an umbrella, a brass pot of water

come back, he pleads, marry my sister

he waves the umbrella over the groom

who  is already dressed for a wedding

he  carefully washes  the  groom's feet 

with turmeric water from the brass pot 

in which marigold and rose petals float 

to soften his pleas, his clear entreaties...

the groom eagerly agrees, then presents 

his brother-in-law-to-be with a gold ring 

the wedding carries on as it was meant to

_____________________________________

Note: In South Indian Hindu wedding ceremonies there is a part called the Kasi Yatra (Pilgrimage to Kasi-Varanasi) which is such a little piece of theater. The groom declares that he's decided to continue being a bachelor student-scholar and takes a little ceremonial walk pretending to take off to the scholarly city Varanasi while the bride's brother is despatched to beg him to return to the wedding. They say it is to mark the passage of the groom from the state of bachelorhood to that of a householder. But it seems like a lot of drama. Haha. The groom is expected to give his brother-in-law-to-be a precious ring to reward him. My uncle still wears the ring my father gave him.

like a drawing of myself

the body's shape is true 
its wisdom is intact 

my limbs chaste

perhaps not an immortal 

but never expendable

still a chosen one 

my frame rich and heavy 

as the best garden

vivid and fat

my self feels anonymous

wants to answer now

seeks surrender

______________________

Pic: My mom and sister sent me a photo of themselves playing holi with friends yesterday! It gave me joy just to look at it and made me me want to schedule a Holi date for later this month when things calm down a bit. I love how holi anonymizes everyone... you can barely tell who's who and can't tell their gender/age/class/color.

I can't get no (dis)satisfaction

Feeling a bit angsty today: 

So my very loving aunt and uncle who were worried about me live in India and are low-key amused by our President and prone to saying he's right about some things. I'm so sad-mad about this disconnect--the guy they like is the reason racism is on the rise and they have to be afraid for me! 

I'm glad I was able to get weekly events going for Women's History Month... I've always been happy to help with this, but it's not my job. There are people in charge of this kind of programming. Why aren't they doing it?

The next time I go on a walk by myself, I'm putting my phone on mute. Just saying. I'm sure my family can figure out whether someone is at the door by themselves and I don't need to know that the heat is out again or that the puppies made a mess until I get home. 

Bestie KB's dad died last night. He had been in decline and then was in hospice care, but somehow I thought they still had some more time. This is like what happened with Lisa's uncle (and KB is in MPLS too). I am so sad for KB plus this makes me fretful because my professor's dad died last week too, and it's making me anxious about my own aging dad. (Nu's passport is messed up because of the Trump administration and now I don't know if we're going to be able to visit my dad in India this summer... ugh)

Pic: Well... at least the skies are blue and the trees are greening again...

connecting

Last month Lisa introduced me to Jeanie, who lives and writes in my city and whom Lisa has known for twenty+ years. It has been lovely getting to know Jeanie online and then maddening to realize that we'd been at the same show of 9 to 5  but missed meeting each other and then a bit amusing to realize from a casual comment about a fundraiser for local transitional housing that our partners are in the same bicycling club. We do have concrete plans for a blogger meetup in April, but I suspect/hope we'll bump into each other before too long. 

As if all this online excitement wasn't enough, my week was sublimely elevated when I received J's lovely Mary Cassatt postcard in the mail. It took me back to when J visited the Cassatt exhibit as part of her birthday celebration in soft December sunshine in California. And as our Michigan temperatures climbed out of freezing this weekend, it felt like J's card was weaving a benevolent influence.

I was thinking of the ways we are all connected in millions of ways as I was coming home yesterday from visiting my sister's school friend, who is in some ways an intrinsic part of my sister's inner circle and community and hence mine on some level. 

I love all the stories we know about each other, all the ideas and hopes we get from each other, all the ways we know we are not alone in this world.

Pic: The spectacular sunset on my way home yesterday. Our world can be so beautiful. 

a love song / love cakes /surrounded by love

a love song

the hero in my heart feels right at home 

cheering for me, and asking to stay

I'm waiting...  for answers 

and searching for things I haven't lost

beloved, you whisper to me of love

how I can find it in myself 

__________________

I made Persian Love Cake last week from this recipe, and made it again this week with a few tweaks. I added pistachios and rose petals in the cake batter too, made a topping rather than a glaze, liberally increased the amount of sugar, rose water, and almond flour, used moulds rather than a pan, and so on to a point where it's now a different thing altogether.

I took a batch to with me to Troy when I went to visit my (actually my sister's) old school friend. I had to remind myself not to treat her like she was 15--she has an 18-year-old herself now. I took Big A's car in case I got lost because my car is all battery and I didn't want to be lost and without battery power. (And I did get lost once. Briefly.) I felt surrounded by love all day from Big A filling up his gas tank before he came home from work this morning to SQ sending me home with six boxes of food.

Pic: Love cakes cooling before being boxed up.

"It's all takin' and no givin'"

So I was a bit euphoric when I wrote yesterday's post. It feels good to solve a problem so easily. But I just know my parents would not approve of me making withdrawals from that account. I know they already gave it to me and it's mine to do whatever I wish with it and all that. But I feel bad. They'd be hurt about it. They would say they sacrificed a lot to give it to me. And yes, I guess they did sacrifice things like impromptu trips to Turkey when they were young to save it for me. I've also been feeling bad about Big A, who makes many times more than I do, but shares everything equally, and here I am spending a private stash I claimed was not for spending. But it's done. And I'm mostly glad I did it. 

Anyway.

Money is so weird. And I don't want to keep thinking about it and feeling anxious. 

But L took me to see 9 to 5 The Musical this evening and I had to continue to think about money some more. About 80% of the audience was women--as if the wage gap isn't an issue that ought to concern everyone. It was a terrific show and a lively and engaged audience. Bless Dolly Parton for making it all feel snappy and hummable at least.

"should I stay or should I go"

"Good Morning Akka," my baby sis texted me around 2:30 am... and then my mom got on the chat too and the three of us we were just... yakking for a while... (This is one of the many reasons my sleep patterns are so fucked.) And then, things got urgent. My mom who watches a lot of Turkish TV shows and has wanted to go to Turkey for a while and knows that Istanbul is huge on my list of places to visit because I'm a history nerd suggested we all go to Turkey together. She'd pay for my air ticket, she said. The three of us could share a suite. How about next week? We should go!

I asked Big A if I should go. (That's right, he usually works nights, so he was up reading beside me too; yet another reason my sleep is messed up.) He said to go for it. I have midterm break coming up next week and so I thought I could actually do it. But this morning, I looked at my calendar and realized that next week I'm in charge of the WGS sessions of the Michigan Academy conference and have board meetings, and am not completely off. Also, I was kind of looking forward to unwinding for a bit, and I'm a bit freaked out about planes falling out the sky. I'll probably stay.

I'm glad to see my mom is willing to spend that much money though. This was probably going to come from her "kum-kum money." (Kum-kum is sindoor/vermillion/the red powder Hindu women use in their hair as a marker of their married status.) Back in the day before middle-class Indian women worked, this was the money families gave their daughters when they got married so they wouldn't have to ask their husbands when they wanted to treat themselves to something. In Victorian novels, "Pin Money" seems to work this way? The amount varied according to the family. My grandmother's kum-kum money at her wedding was several mango orchards and required a manager and became the inheritance handed down to her own four daughters (including my mother). Unofficially, kum-kum money also worked as an emergency fund that could help women leave, if they decided they should go. 

Although Big A and I have everything in both our names, I still (and always will) have my kum-kum money in a separate account (I promised my parents this). And it's going to come in useful because just this morning, someone dear said they'd need help making their mortgage this month, and I know without consulting anyone that I am going to be able to be able to help. They'll be able to stay. 

Pic: Jumble of things on a shelf at work. I love that picture in the center with At reading to Nu so much... This was also around the time At had just discovered The Clash and loved belting out "Should I Stay or Should I go" as a punchline to everything.

steps to space

I am five and a "flower girl."

In the nativity play. 

(It must be one of the roles they give out when the real parts are gone quipped someone recently.

It's probably true.)

I have a new dress with flowers on it. I have flowers in my hair. I am so excited. 

My mother wants to know if she can help me rehearse "my steps." She means my choreography/step-by-step moves on stage. 

I have no idea what she means. 

(I have nothing to do in the play. I merely stand in a line with the other bit players and throw a flower or two out of my basket.)

It becomes a small "thing." 

Do you know your steps? she keeps asking. 

I have no idea how to respond.

I have a brainwave and tell her that I can't say them but I can draw it for her. 

She's confused. But ok. 

We find some paper and crayons.

I proudly draw her a series of descending interconnected "Ls" to make a picture of stairs...  they begin and end in emptiness.

*

At is nearly five. This child is my life.

It is summer, my favorite time of the year. 

At is an easy, happy child. We've spent hours cuddled up,  painting, reading, exploring in the community garden...

In this moment, At's health status terrifies me. "Failure to Thrive" a medical resident said with a smile once. (I know they were smiling because they'd solved the mystery diagnosis and not because my child might not live, still...) "Failure to Thrive" makes mealtimes and food intake strenuous and stressful. 

It is summer, my favorite time of the year. 

It is summer and At has no school.

I am in grad school. I am newly widowed. I have spent the day parenting alone. 

I owe my advisor a dissertation chapter, I owe a colleague a book review, I owe the IRS what seems a lot of money.

It's finally 7 pm and I put At to bed. After reading and singing and talking (At has always LOVED to talk), it's 8 pm and I'm getting ready to slip out of At's tiny bed. 

"Stay!" At says. Hopeful eyes, cheeky smile.

And I (will forever regret that I) said the tired thing in my head. "I have to go, Kanna... I need to make some space for me." 

"Wait-wait!" the lonely child says--tiny, triumphant hands eagerly sweeping up books and stuffies to make room, "I'll make more space for you!"  

____________________________

Pic: Rainbow-tunnel-carwash. Stuck there, it seemed both grim and hopeful at the same time. 

seeing red until

Red Note: I tried the new place all the kids are decamping to in the wake of the potential TikTok ban--just to check it out. It was kinda confusing.

Red Book: Someone said: "Did you know that RedNote actually translates into "Little Red Book" as in Mao's Little Red Book?" That does not faze me. The Little Red Book has its moments. It's not like it's something written by Kim Jong Un. C'mon. I kept thinking about that person's outrage all day, and it was a bit funny.

Red Card: An international student wondered if we should be giving other international students "red cards." At first I thought it was something to do with the Lunar new year, but it was actually about how to prepare yourself for immigration raids. I was by turns sad and angry about this one. 

Red Envelopes: At the end of the day, dinner was with EM, whom I haven't seen in weeks and it was lovely to catch up. And of course she gave my grownass kids red envelopes with money in it for new year luck. Neither A's only sibling nor mine live near by so I'm glad and grateful for all the people who treat our kids as their niblings. 

Pic: Red envelopes for Nu and At today. Happy New Year of the Snake!

"life is never just one thing"

I didn't see Big A at all today. He'd worked an overnight in Ann Arbor and I left for work an hour before dawn to make it to an 8 am meeting. By the time I got home after a late evening at work, he'd already left for work again. 

But to quote Connie Schultz, "Life is never just one thing;" other than that, it was a lovely day. 

We inducted new members to the English honorary and it's always such a delight to see students dressed up for the occasion and meet their families. I mean... you think you see your students grow in the classroom and love their work and the people they are and then you meet their families and it's a whole new level of understanding how much they're cherished, seeing the wonder their grownups have about these humans they have made in one way or another. It's kind of transcendent. 

Also, somehow I was going to place an order with the catering company and then decided to do it myself and found myself after classes at MacCurdy (the feminist house I advise) borrowing their oven to heat up trays of hors d'oeuvres. And also, I have the best colleagues... ok, the best women colleagues--who seamlessly did everything from setup to clear-up. The whole evening was busy and bright and social and fun--all the stuff I adore. 

And then when I came home I was so tired I couldn't even bear the sound of the loud TV show Nu (who had no school today and has no school tomorrow because of our frigid temps) had on. I just wanted to sit with my arms around my babies for while. Then Nu went to bed, I FaceTimed my sister for her birthday (it's already her birthday in India!), and then snuggled up to read with Max and Huck.

Pic: This treat of lovely words and signature shortbread was waiting for me after my first class today. I did work hard today, but this wasn't about that. It's from a lovely and private colleague in another department and says way more about their wonderfulness than anything it might imply about me.

it's her birthday, and I don't want her to cry (or even want to)

My sister's birthday is coming up next week and I'm so excited for her to see my present: it's a pair of  necklaces--one with her name in Greek as a memento of our trip together last year and another with her name in hieroglyphics looking forward to our proposed trip to Egypt in a few years. 

But today I woke up to a text she'd sent me (just me, not on family chat) that her job seemed to be in jeopardy. She's already started looking, but she's at the very top (the next level is CEO) and thinks there aren't any openings. This makes me very worried for her (she loves what she does) and how it will affect her dynamic with her partner (I'm not a fan). And also, our parents are on her health insurance (it always boggles my mind that parents aren't considered family enough to be on your health insurance in the U.S.) etc. I'll certainly have to step up in many more ways if my sister's job disappears. 

Also, what terrible timing! It's her birthday on Wednesday! I know corporations don't know or care that it's your birthday, but it doesn't keep my sadness or outrage away. 

Pic: Today was another super long day, and it's still cold, with more snow on the way--but when I went out with Max and Huck after a few hours of work, the sun was coming up. I pulled my shoulders away from my ears, and pressed reset on the day. 

Pongal Sonnet

I've come such a long way

... north  I   now  celebrate 

this  Pongal  in  the   snow 

all  of  us  have  journeys 

I   suppose, we're all  from 

somewhere else as we know

like daffodils, not even Hindu 

still, here they are, little suns

intimate on the offering plate 

with the shakarapongal where

they  relate a welcome  flight

through pressure, sludge, ice--  

bright in the salute and shatter 

of our  planet's  feral sunlight

___________________

Pic: Late evening Pongal offering with Nu, Huck and Max. I took a picture to share with At who couldn't make it to pooja... Huck is dancing! 

Bending Meaning: Haiku, P.F.Chang, and "Peelings"

I'll never get used to hearing Big A talking on the phone to his colleagues and casually asking them to send him a haiku. Haiku is merely the hospital's internal secure messaging system, but it nevertheless sounds so charming. Although at other times I'm a bit stern and feel like if they're going to appropriate poetic terminology, they better be structuring their medical notes 5/7/5, you know?

*

Last year, Big A had a recurrent dream where Scout was accompanying him to a bunch of classes at Kalamazoo, his old undergraduate campus. In one dream, it was a poetry class where the instructor had displayed some of their published works on the desk at the front of the class. A can't remember the titles, but the poet's name was P.F. Chang--like the Asian restaurant chain. I wonder if Big A was thinking of Victoria Chang but was also a bit hungry?

*

I've been hearing this catchy Telugu film song on a number of reels and wanted to download it for my playlist. The song is about how the heroine is plagued by carnal feelings for the hero--"vochundai feelings-su" (I get these feelings). So I searched "Feelings" on I-Tunes, and nope, nothing. Turns out it's spelled "Peelings"--all the better to express the way it might be pronounced with emphasis in Telugu, I guess? Not really a word with a sultry vibe for me, however--it makes me think of dinner prep... or a skin condition.

Pic: The Red Cedar right behind L's house. From another walk this week. 

flowers, food, and "face-wrestling"

I decided to do the flowers for the Thanksgiving table myself and that reminded me of Mrs. Dalloway saying she'd get the flowers herself. Then I briefly wondered if I was like her in surrounding myself with events as a way of avoiding the void.

Anyway, the day before an event is always suspenseful for me. I tend to make a lot of food, but we have just the one fridge and freezer, so I can't overshop or cook in advance, and it's a gamble if I'll find everything on my list. I didn't find parsnips today. But I suspect no one cares about the parsnips but me.

Pic: Max and Huck in a post-dinner "face-wrestle." There's a lot of groaning-growling-baring of teeth and positioning of jaws in scary ways... and they seem to be having so much fun. It reminds me of my two boy cousins--whoever arrived first at my grandmother's place for the weekend would wait anxiously for the other one, and the minute he arrived, he'd be greeted with the affectionate invitation, "Let's go fight, da!" And then my baby cousins would kinda fight like Max and Huck do now.

things I was told this week

Nu's pneumonia came up when I dropped in on the girlfriends yesterday. As I was wondering if I should be around other people, DV, who was such a rock when Nu was in distress, told me that the CDC has changed its recommendations for the pneumococcal vaccine, lowering the age recommendation. I'm getting it. 

As I was dropping Nu off for driving practice this morning, I told them I'm very self-conscious as I drive up to their instructor's car, making sure to keep my hands in the 10-2 position and all that. And Nu told me that actually, now you're supposed to keep your hands in the 9-3 position because of the possibility of airbag injury! And also that perhaps I should drive badly, as it might be helpful. The instructor would cut them some extra slack because they'd be like, Whoa! That kid has a terrible role model. Thanks, Nu.

A person I love love love dearly told me that they're separating from their partner. Twenty plus years ago, when we were all in grad school, they'd brought this person to my Thanksgiving table as a friend. And in a phone call later that week I'd said to them that it seemed like the other person wanted to be more than friends. They got married a few days after Big A and I did. My person has supported their soon-to-be-ex emotionally and financially for nearly two decades and this just fits the overall trend and it sucks and I am heartsick. 

While I was coordinating a welcome gift drop-off for a cousin's new baby, I casually asked my aunt what new adventures she and her husband had been up to since they were now empty nesters... and she told me she'd just divorced him. I wasn't expecting this for all the obvious reasons, but also because they had had an arranged marriage, and I think this is the first divorce in that generation on my side of the family. This is huge and liberating--I'm so happy people are looking out for their happiness without letting tradition and fear of scandal get in the way. 

At did a class on inoculation for other organizers in their old bedroom before family dinner this evening. When I was dropping them off at their place, At told me that in every class, they mention how I talked to one of their Indian coworkers in Telugu and how that helped build a connection. Aw! I feel like a small part of labor history!

Pic: The Red Cedar in spate. (Just past the stadium.)

mid-night, mid-life, mid-everything

Do you remember how childhood used to be real and we lived inside it?

I just got off the phone with my mom... we were chatting and having a great time, but suddenly she did some time math (it's around 3:00 am here, 1:30 pm in India) and told me to go to bed. 

She also said she would send me 100$ to buy "something nice" on my December trip with my sister and I suddenly felt about 12 years old. When I did the currency math, $100 is like 8400 rupees, and I demurred, but my mom won't let me refuse. 

Something about being hustled off to bed and the delight in my mom's voice about treating me makes me feel precious and small and cared for. And it makes me want to cry. But of course this week, everything makes me want to cry.

Pic: Sanford Woods last week. 

right to party

I spent weeks prepping, and everything went really well (I think!)!!  There was a photo booth, a henna artist, a craft table, a cards table (it's traditional to gamble, I set out dominoes for people to stake), some dupattas for those who wanted to add some desi flair, and a banging playlist. I wish there had been more dancing. 

I'm not sure we'll be in a house this big next year, so might as well use it, right? And our house was FULL. Still is in a way--all the bedrooms are occupied, and poor Nu is sleeping in the rumpus room. (It's an Indian kid rite of passage-- giving up your room to assorted "cousins.") 

The afterparty was curling up with Big A on the sofa and finally eating some food and getting waited on by the fam; having Nu request that I share the playlist with them (WIN); and seeing At's text saying it was an "incredible party." (We stayed on text to talk about Sally Rooney. Do they have stellar politics? Absolutely. Are they a good writer? Maybe? At: "sometimes I feel like they really are capturing something though" "there's this beautifully understatedly marxist scene in a church later in the book that has stayed in my mind forever." I'm not at that part yet... Ok then. )

Anyway, the party is over. I spent weeks prepping, and it was such a nice distraction when I found myself slipping into a funk. Now I have nothing to distract myself with, and have only serious, scary, and sad things to think about...  c'est la vie.)

Pic: Fireworks. I'm happy to see all my people having a good time. (Can we pretend that the smoke is an aurora borealis or something?)

Happy Hallowali!

Happy Diwali-ween!

I'm taking the beginning of Diwali celebrations today as an assurance that love endures, and that light perseveres... all Hallow's Eve is actually the same thing, right? 

Nu dressed as Rainbow Dash today and is out with friends. Diwali is a multi-day affair and they have the day off tomorrow to celebrate Diwali anyway. Yay! 

I gather from friends in New Jersey that school districts there have the day off too. When I was at the fireworks store yesterday to buy sparklers for the party, the guys there wished me "Happy Diwali!" All this feels surprisingly mainstream!

I'm excited (and a teensy bit anxious--so many moving parts) about our Diwali party on Saturday--my baby cousin and her friends, a former student and their partner, and my in-laws are coming for the weekend... and to help me prep! 

Pic: Max and Huck with JL and Henry, who has recovered from his amputation like the champion he is!