Dear India,
Even though it feels in my bones like a lifetime ago, a whirlwind of a trip, your memory is still with me, still beating strong. It's like you put a spell on me, connecting our hearts together with string that won't give, coming alive in my dreams, visions, and paintings. It's not something that will ever relinquish, and not that I would ever want this love in me to cease, I guess I just thought my tears would have run dry by now.
the sounds. the food. the bobble head gesture. the smells. the people. the one elephant, the two peacocks, the roosters, the chickens, the cows and the pigs that roamed so freely. the children, whose faces I can't erase and small voices I can still hear. the little girls who loved to sing and dance, and the nick-name they gave me, 'meghan dance master'. the way the women managed to be so graceful riding a motorcycle in their beautifully wrapped sari's as the driver swiftly moved through traffic. the way we ate with our hands. the widows i sat next to at church, and afterward asking me for prayer, strife and struggle painted on their faces, the tears flowing. the way old man Moses face lit up when I gave him bubbles to play with, the way he gripped my hands and hugged tightly, his tears staining my cheeks. having ginger tea every night with appa and amma. amma's smile and the way she held me the night before we left, asking me not to go to bed yet, wanting that moment to last as long as I did. the way the small curve of a child's hand safely fit in mine. pastor blessie, who loved to hear american action songs. John Mark, paralyzed from polio, had a smile and a servant's heart that could move mountains. prayer and crystal, an inspiration to me, proving that nothing is impossible through Him.
These are all dwelling so deep in my heart.
the regrets, the selfishness, and the jealousy being forced out to make more room for love. to make more room for all these moments, wanting space in my heart.
I am so love-sick to get back to you, India. Sometimes i feel lonely because i am not there. Sometimes i feel incomplete because i am not there. People said, I would be emotional from leaving, I just never thought it would feel like a baby being ripped out of my hands.
i haven't developed any of my film yet, a little scared to do so, not sure if i can handle my heart being broken again as my eyes meet theirs. right now, i haven't forgotten the smiles or shrill of voices, once my mind starts to forget, then that will be the time.
at this moment, i don't need anything tangible in my hands to remember, all i need to do is close my eyes.
