I love organizing, but when it comes to cleaning, I always lack motivation. I start with good intentions, but then get stuck organizing things, and the original task remains unfinished. My bathroom and floors might be dirty, but my pantry and linen closet will be organized. They were, anyway, in better shape than the kitchen and bathroom to begin with.
I get frustrated, and because I’m not 100% into it, the mess piles up for the next day. Yesterday, I decided to clean one drawer at a time, and then this happened: I found a bag full of letters, most of which were written by Amma. A few were from my sisters, papa, and a couple from my in-laws. I started reading, and time just flew by.
It's hard for many people to understand now how important these letters were, as they were the only way to know things in detail. Amma wrote regularly, and so did I. Sometimes, my sisters would get a photocopy of my letters to Amma and Papa, especially after the kids were born.
Amma had beautiful handwriting. She wrote consistently, keeping me informed about family, friends, and our town. She shared details about our garden, our neighbors, and asked many questions about our lives away from them—especially how badly she missed her grandkids.
Reading these letters made me miss her even more—so many memories and emotions came flooding back. The time difference and distance didn’t matter. These letters are a bridge to the past, a way to keep Amma’s memories alive.
A silk contemporary Ikat for a ladies get together.
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