How different 24 hours can be. I went to bed with a sense of relief. Every part of my body was aching, I was exhausted beyond measure, my mind was replaying the whole day and telling me what went wrong, but the heart was happy—a different kind of joy, a satisfaction when you know whatever you’re doing is making a difference.
There will be so many stories and pictures how the event worked out: the parents’ version, the kids’ version, the performers’ version, and the volunteers’ version, and then Jaya’s version. I am too afraid to ask Mr. husband about his version.
Before I forget, I have to mention that he was there from end to finish, and that is the miracle in itself. I kept my promise, didn’t speak more than 10 lines, and he did so many things without even asking, no complaint. Only one thing he said later—find a venue on the ground floor, two sets of stairs are a little too much for helpers.
The day turned out to be a beautiful sunny day, women dressed up, kids happy and very patient photographers. The magician was amazing with kids, the face painters made the kids happy, and ending the day with the dance was such a promise to do it again.
I am grateful to people who went early in the morning with me to set up the hall, carried the day with me, brought water for me when I was all over the place, and stayed till the end to make sure things were in place.
I went back again when the cleaners were doing their magic. After seeing that, I was in a much better place—worth spending every penny.
I heard the food was wonderful. Next year I have to make sure I save some for myself or actually eat. Lesson learned, again—that’s progress.
We will work around the mistakes we made this year, find solutions for them, do more events, make them bigger, and make new mistakes.
It wasn’t a perfect day, but it was a meaningful one—and that feels like enough for now.
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