Meditative moments come to me quite randomly even though I struggle to quiet the clamor in my brain most of the time. Recently, one came unbidden why waiting inside my car in the carwash. I contemplated the passage of time, how taking care of things that take care of us matters and why growing old does not mandate growing irrelevant. Each car I have owned has been about a discrete phase of my life - there was the starry eyed newly-wed car that was a gift from my ex-husband. I had no specific affinity for this car, did not feel any pride or joy of ownership but valued the freedom it afforded me. All of that was true of my marriage as well. There was a car that served most of J's growing up years and then the one I have now that came at a cusp of change - a second lease of life, J growing up and then leaving to college and now and an empty nest. Once the car was washed and dried, it was time to leave. It made me think about the parallel to my life today. There is no new and shiny, or relentless daily strife to overcome. Life could be old, weary and if unattended even dusty. But with a little effort, it could still sparkle, inspire and bring satisfaction.
An expat desi friend and I were discussing what it means to return to India when you have cobbled together a life in a foreign country no matter how flawed and imperfect. We have both spent over a decade outside India and have kids who were born abroad and have spent very little time back home. Returning "home" is something a lot of new immigrants like L and myself think about. We want very much for that to be an option because a full assimilation into our country of domicile is likely never going to happen. L has visited India more often than I have and has a much better pulse on what's going on there. For me the strongest drag force working against my desire to return home is my experience of life as a woman in India. I neither want to live that suffocatingly sheltered existence myself nor subject J to it. The freedom, independence and safety I have had in here in suburban America was not even something I knew I could expect to have in India. I never knew what it felt t...
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