My parents made a long journey to witness the birth of my child. But they had to leave soon after and it broke their hearts.
So after seven months, I made the long journey with my baby to spend a few months with them. Just so that they could see her grow a little, so that they could love her in person, hold her, hug her, kiss her. Everyday, the joy they bring to one another amazes me.
Now I have to leave and it shatters my heart.
There will be video calls, virtual hugs, flying kisses.
What will be missing is the halo of happiness that engulfs her, them when they are together.

But what will remain is their remarkable love, the ardour of which will be enough for my child to bask in, inspite of the distance.

And to my husband, who never complained even if he missed seeing his baby’s first crawl, first word, first wobbly step, but whose love reflected off the screen in the video calls each day.

This is my story. An ordinary story of ordinary people, ordinary lives, of extraordinary love- a constant flow of it. And indeed, isn’t love all that matters?

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