Every Amma’s Inner Feeling…

 I don’t know how you understand the physics of pressure so perfectly — as if even the tiniest shift, an inch, half a centimetre, softly announces my absence to you. The moment I move, you stir. You lift your little face, half-open those sleepy eyes, and check… your tiny finger reaching out to touch my cheek, just to make sure I am still there.

How do you know?

I don’t know how much circus I have to perform to slide away from the bed once you finally fall asleep. However slowly I lift my arm, however carefully I shift my weight, however quietly I try to sneak out — you always know.

You always know.

Is it the warmth disappears?
Is it the rhythm of my breathing changing?
Or is it the scent of my body that tells you I am no longer beside you?

How do you sense my absence so instantly, so surely?

It is annoying. Deeply, deeply annoying.

And yet… it also means that even half a centimetre of distance feels too much for you.

It is only the waiting chores that make it feel annoying — I know that. I know that!!!!!!!

Sometimes I wish time would freeze.

I wish the chai would brew on its own.
The vessels would clean themselves.
The batter would rise perfectly without me.
The vegetables would wash, dry, and settle neatly into their basket.

Because even then… I melt.

At your subtle movements.
At the soft rise and fall of your breathing.
At those peacefully closed eyes.
At those impossibly soft, round cheeks.

No matter how much I tell myself to get up, to move, to finish something, I cannot resist staying just a little longer beside you.

And the world can wait —
just a little —

while I lie here
and watch (feel every bit of you!!!!!!)
as you sleep. 💛