When we first moved in one of the apartments on the ground floor was having its cabinets put in. There were two carpenters working everyday, all day for about 3 weeks. They spoke Hindi, so our conversations were severely limited but they learned the girls' names and said, "Hello!" every time we passed. And they were seriously all smiles. They made my day most days and I even though I knew they were not, I began to think of them as neighbors.
And suddenly they were gone. Their work was finished so they moved to a new place. I still miss them. No more smiling faces looking back at me through the windows.
I think about this as our return to America comes closer. There are so many people in our lives here. We of course have family. We have Sankalp friends. We have teachers and school friends. We have dance teachers and dance friends. I know we will have good bye get togethers and lunch dates, but there is also a myriad of folks who have become part of our lives purely by doing what they do and us doing what we do. There is the banana man who insists I say all numbers in Kannada. There is the ironing man who never charges me for my daughters' clothes. There is the chicken foot/mango man with the little kitty. There is the man in the next vegetable stall who keeps telling me that soon my Kannda is going to be good. There are the ladies who sell the herbs and peas who call to me to buy from their stall. I have my own special rotation in my head trying to be fair and purchase from each one of them. I do not want to just disappear on them. I want to say good bye in a meaningful way.
And suddenly they were gone. Their work was finished so they moved to a new place. I still miss them. No more smiling faces looking back at me through the windows.
I think about this as our return to America comes closer. There are so many people in our lives here. We of course have family. We have Sankalp friends. We have teachers and school friends. We have dance teachers and dance friends. I know we will have good bye get togethers and lunch dates, but there is also a myriad of folks who have become part of our lives purely by doing what they do and us doing what we do. There is the banana man who insists I say all numbers in Kannada. There is the ironing man who never charges me for my daughters' clothes. There is the chicken foot/mango man with the little kitty. There is the man in the next vegetable stall who keeps telling me that soon my Kannda is going to be good. There are the ladies who sell the herbs and peas who call to me to buy from their stall. I have my own special rotation in my head trying to be fair and purchase from each one of them. I do not want to just disappear on them. I want to say good bye in a meaningful way.
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