Dearest Child

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script>
<!– taw-responsive –>
<ins class=”adsbygoogle”
     style=”display:block”
     data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″
     data-ad-slot=”1428227755
     data-ad-format=”auto”></ins>
<script>
(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});
</script>

Dearest Child,

 
The world has awoken to another beautiful day. The sky is lit up in beautiful hues of gold, red and orange. The sunrays crisscrossing through the gliding clumps of clouds look almost ethereal. I am playing with the tiny dew drops that grace almost everything around us while I wait for my coffee to brew.
 
What would you like to have for breakfast? It’s just you and Mummy today. Daddy left last night for an important business trip. I miss him already, do you miss Daddy too?
 
I will be baking vanilla almond cake today. Mrs. Sharma, the old lady who lives three blocks down the road, loves my cakes and has been asking me to bake her one since weeks. Would you like butterscotch like Daddy or chocolate like Mummy?
 

<script async src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js“></script>
<!– taw_display2 –>
<ins class=”adsbygoogle”
     style=”display:block”
     data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″
     data-ad-slot=”7509420951
     data-ad-format=”auto”></ins>
<script>
(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});
</script>
The nursery has been shut since the time I went to the hospital. I wish we had completed the coloring before then. But we can do it together now. I chose pink for you, Daddy picked blue. After two days of bickering, we settled on coloring your room in both shades. Which shade will you like better?
 
You remember the red sweater I had woven for you? The one you loved so much, you kicked me every time I brought it close to you? I gave it to Rani today. She thanked me with tears in her eyes because her little one had been down with fever since two days and she had nothing to wrap him up in. It was painful giving it away, it made the loss almost real, but her baby needed it more. I’m sure you would have agreed too.
 
The new story books I had ordered for you are still sitting in the box. Would you want me to read you stories like we used to? Mom tells me I should send the books back or gift them to someone. She visited yesterday, and kept saying I should give away your clothes and toys too. But I can’t. Not yet.
 
Losing you before I could even see you, or hold you, or kiss your tiny face, was the most agonizing thing I’ve had to live through. But my psychiatrist says writing letters addressed to you everyday will help me fight depression. He says I’m doing well and that I write as if I’m writing to a real person. I simply smile each time he says this, but how do I explain to him that I feel your presence around me every day, every moment? I feel you are with me always… Aren’t you?
 
Love you forever,
Mom

Image Source

<script src=”//pagead2.googlesyndication.com/pagead/js/adsbygoogle.js” async=””></script>
 <ins class=”adsbygoogle” style=”display: block;” data-ad-format=”autorelaxed” data-ad-client=”ca-pub-3446446293618986″ data-ad-slot=”1246221352“></ins>
<script>// <![CDATA[
     (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});
// ]]></script>

Share With Friends