Written while it was still happening.
One day your child will be old enough to wonder about you. Not just you as their mother — you as a person. The woman who packed her whole life into two suitcases, flew thousands of miles from everything she knew, and then had them, far from home, with no family nearby.
This journal is where you answer the questions before they know to ask.
I made it because my kids asked me what my house in India looked like, and I started to answer and realized I couldn't describe the smell of it anymore. The exact one. The one that used to mean I was home.
Nobody warns you that you'll slowly lose the details of your old life. So, I wrote mine down. All of it.
Written while it was still happening.
One day your child will be old enough to wonder about you. Not just you as their mother — you as a person. The woman who packed her whole life into two suitcases, flew thousands of miles from everything she knew, and then had them, far from home, with no family nearby.
This journal is where you answer the questions before they know to ask.
I made it because my kids asked me what my house in India looked like, and I started to answer and realized I couldn't describe the smell of it anymore. The exact one. The one that used to mean I was home.
Nobody warns you that you'll slowly lose the details of your old life. So, I wrote mine down. All of it.
