Sometimes it’s hard to say everything in the moment. So we write.
These are our letters to you, Meera — to remember your growing days, to hold the small magic in words, and to leave you little footprints of love for later. Someday, when you’re older, you can read them. For now, we write with soft hearts and sleepy eyes.
Dear Meera, You won’t remember it — how could you? But I hope someday you’ll read this and feel it. You were barely minutes old, still learning to breathe air. I stood there, frozen, watching the nurses clean you up, and I whispered your name under my breath like a prayer: Meera. I had waited months to meet you, dreamt about this exact moment. But nothing — absolutely nothing — could have prepared me for how it felt to finally hold you. ...