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I Am My Father’s Daughter

I’m so pleased that you and your dad are making good memories, I just wish my daughter wanted to get in touch with me as 19 years apart is too long for me. This post touched me in ways I never thought possible, if it moves you too please leave a comment on the original post and not here, thank you.

A Thomas Point of View

This has been an interesting holiday season. I spent Thanksgiving at my grandma’s house which is something that I hadn’t done since college. It felt good to be in grandma’s house and in her presence. I love spending time with my grandma and this year I got to spend time with my dad.

As many of you know from my prior posts that my dad was an absentee father for many years. He wasn’t around. He chose not to have a relationship with me. It’s weird because going home to be with him was both scary and wonderful at the same time. I was getting to know the man who was standing before me.

I wanted to make memories. Good ones. I wanted to capture the essence of his spirit and remember his face because I’ve spent so many years missing him. Missing the man who used to tuck me into…

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I am not old she said

Thoughts from a traveller just like us, too good to ignore. Please leave comments on the original post and not just here, thank you.

The happy Quitter!

age

I like the idea of being rare, I like it a lot.

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A Walk To Remember

Such a wonderful tale of Nature’s beauty. Please leave comments on the original post and not just here, thank you.

Piyusha Vir

I hate exercise – of any kind. Except if you play some great dance numbers, and we go for mindless jiving and jumping, doing which I would surely resemble something like a cross between a monkey on hot bricks and a drunken woman in a crazy trance.
But today, the post-Diwali fatigue not withstanding, I had resolved to get out of my work space (which had been my home for a straight 18 hours), and give my eyes a rest and my legs some extra work. After much cajoling to self, and more reprimands from Mother, I finally did dress up in my sporty best and stepped out into the open air; equipped with my phone and earplugs to give me a musical respite during my ardous evening walk.
There is a park close by, flanked by buildings on three sides – a block of apartments on two sides, and a commercial market…

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World War III : The Golf Cart, Ant Attack and the Mud Path

Funny tale of mud, golf and ants declaring war. Please ensure comments are placed against the original post and not just here.

Piyusha Vir

On a recent family trip to an out-of-town golf course, I had been designated as the unofficial photographer, and we had obtained permission for me to go on the golf course, despite not playing myself. I had a golf cart all to myself, and had promised to stay off the course; while my parents shared one and were on the course, playing.
The golf course was vast and picturesque with lush greenery, hilly terrain with its sheer cliffs and steep valleys .
I was busy taking photographs and videos, while trailing them in my cart. The entire morning had remained uneventful. My parents continued to play golf. I continued to take photographs. Of the golf course, the flora, the hills, the blue skies and sometimes, if I felt generous, of my parents too.

Once or twice, I observed my father hit an amazing shot, where the ball had soared up high…

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