for the first time in my eighteen years of existence, have i seen her in bed this way. it's a new feeling, a feeling i wish that doesn't last very long; she doesn't remember anyone. but calls all of us "shehzaada" and "shehzaadi" (prince and princess), sometimes we're her favourite flowers (as she likes to call us) and sometimes we kidnap her in her own house.
it's cute and bittersweet at the same time.
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you and i are looking at the same hands.
these hands have held nine children and more than twenty grandchildren and now two great grandchildren, these same hands have held my grandfather's hands too. and the hands of people i always hear about.
maybe i will be at her place one day, maybe i will not. but it's a crazy thing to think about. and it drives me crazy a lot of times.
