For my daughter

 

 

Dear Reya,

 

As I write you this letter, you are 3 weeks old, and nestled up close to me. And I want to tell you something. I want to put pen to paper, and write down the beginning of your story. And your story begins with us. We are your parents. Your father is a kind man. He is loving and courageous and golden and true. He protects my heart and in so many ways, it is because of him that I am the woman I am today. And I am your mother. I don’t much know how I would describe myself, but I get the feeling I won’t have to. We have a lifetime of getting to know each other. Your father and I found a big love in our togetherness, and this is what you were made from, and are born into. 

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Devaki & Me

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Readers who have been following along with this blog since the beginning of time, just kidding – the beginning of this blog, will know about one of the main characters in the story of my life. And her name is Devaki (pronounced they-va-ki)

She is the daughter of my mother’s best friend. And her parents are like second parents to me. They have known me since I was 9 years old, and I have known Deki (pronounced they-ki) since she was born.

Living in Kamloops together, just a 7 minute drive from each other, I watched her grow up and she watched me. She was the sweetest little girl; imaginative, considerate, thoughtful and soft-spoken. A few years later we welcomed her little brother Ishaan into the world. He was the first baby that has fallen asleep in my arms and that is one of the loveliest things that has happened to me.

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