The Upstairs Quiet
October Reflections; Leading to Diwali
The house felt lighter today. Maybe it was the breeze through the windows, or maybe it was something quieter; like Amma’s presence softening the air.
The maid and I returned to continue what we’d started last week, the upstairs rooms! They felt as if they’d been waiting quietly, holding the same stillness that greets me each time I return. There’s a rhythm to coming back here actually, the dusting, arranging, pausing and then the remembering.
We worked for hours, and at some point, while soft Healing Mantras played in the background, I dozed off, just for a moment. The kind of nap where your body gives in before your mind can argue. When I opened my eyes, the maid was smiling gently, saying, “All done.” It felt like such a small kindness, but in that moment, it wrapped around me like Amma’s approval.
I walked around doing the final checks, leaving a few lights on as if to keep her company.
Lunch followed; simple, comforting, shared with the maid before sending her home. There’s still more to do, but slowly, the house feels more like it used to be; lived in, loved and cared for.
Next week, Diwali arrives. We won’t celebrate fully as it’s been less than a year since Amma’s passing. But cleaning, lighting lamps and saying a small prayer feels right in my heart. It’s less about festivity and more about continuing her rhythm of care and devotion.
By the time I locked the doors, I could almost feel her grin in the photo by the wall; that familiar warmth that always said, “You did well.” (Me in response, ‘Thanks, ma…)
Pause and breathe. What stirred within you?
Notes / What I Felt
Healing can happen in the middle of chores.
Quiet smiles carry deep comfort.
A house remembers love through care.
Even gentle rituals can honor those we miss.
Grief changes shape, but love remains constant.
Closing Note:
Sometimes, coming home isn’t about grand gestures. It’s about quiet rooms, soft prayers, and the familiar hum of love that never leaves.
