Cradling the Moment

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I watch his sleeping face

In the seat next to mine

Leaning on the window of the plane

Pimples and their traces on forehead

A thin line of hair on upper lip

Few strands hanging from the chin

 

A foot taller than me

Now he reaches

The topmost shelves

Opens the tightest jar lids

But is too proud to ask for help

 

How I miss

Gathering him

Pecking his cheek

Tousling his hair

Tugging him along

 

And then he stirs

Rolls his head

Onto my shoulder

My heart explodes

But I hold very still

Stop my fingers

From combing his hair

 

I just cradle the moment

My baby resting

On my shoulder again

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Sara Siddiqui Chansarkar is an Indian American. Her husband came to Columbus Ohio from India in 2004 for a short project which extended beyond the realm of months. She then followed him with their two-year old son wound around her neck because marriages are not known to survive continents. Her heart was ripped asunder at leaving family behind but Columbus welcomed her with open arms. It has been home since then. Never has she felt like an outsider.She loves the diverse and inclusive culture of the city and enjoys its four distinct seasons. She will forever be indebted to her parents for educating her beyond their means. Anything good, she says, is the genes she inherited. All the bad is a result of mutations. She works as an Informational Technology Lead, reviewing codes and systems during the day, cooking in the evening and then curling up with a book at night. A cup of hot tea brings a smile to her lips, especially if it’s made by her husband. Her thoughts find words while on her usual Fitbit-powered solitary walks or in the shower. She then downloads them to her blog Puny Fingers, which is a medley of personal essays, poems, and fiction. Her son, now a towering teenager, teaches her the common colloquial expressions and corrects her pronunciations.