How do I still find a way to “have a bad day?”
1-2x a week, we get a food delivery. To our door. Individually packaged. Labeled. For whom. With an adorable note “Camelope for my Jaanu Baanu” (because Jaanu calls cantaloupe, camelope and it’s too cute to fix) or “Raita for my Princess” (because Anaiya loves her Raita. But these containers are labeled for the whole family. All four of us. Better food. Better flavor. Better packaging. Better notes and messages. Than any restaurant in the world. Because we’re blessed to have a Mom/Naniji in Satinder Chadha 2.5 miles away. And don’t forget chai for Priya KC Bhatt in a to go cup.
It arrives beautifully packaged delivered often times by a man, Daljit Chadha, who’s just been at work all day, and managed to drop the items off with smiles and jolliness that surpass the most caricatured Santa Claus depictions.
And our Santa, 2-3x a month, makes sure the kids get donuts and munchkins, their pickiest favorite kinds, which can often mean running to multiple Duck and Dunkin Donuts before swinging by here to again, drop them off.
How do I ever have a bad day? We’re infinitely luckier than most people are during this pandemic because we have willing and giving guardian angels 2.5 miles away.
Did I mention 2.5? That’s not just the miles away, that’s the length of time (and then some) we lived with them while we searched for a house.
How do I ever have a bad day? Because I’m spoiled rotten. Yesterday was their anniversary. 47 years. Marriage is hard. Marriage. Love. They’re verbs. Action verbs.
They thrive when the actions take place guided by generosity.
These two. Acquired parents of mine. But parents they objectively are (ain’t no in laws this relationship.) I’ve no words for them.
Mom and Dad, Happy Anniversary.
For you, #iamgrateful and #iamthankful