Pure Hearts, Noble Souls, And A Lifetime Of Blessing
In response to March prompt: Symbolism of luck and blessings
I was blessed, twice.
Family isn’t always blood. It is the people in your life who want you in theirs, the ones who accept you for who you are. The ones who would do anything to see you smile and who love you no matter what — Anonymous
This story is a post of appreciation for those two persons, whom I met and lived with by a matter of pure chance but whom I cherish and celebrate as my own.
They are my family.
They belong to that set of persons who reflect nothing but purity, goodness, and goodwill.
Their gleaming smiles illicit the nobility they bear in their hearts and the simplicity with which they live their lives.
Both of them are smart, educated, and married for the past twenty-six years. They gave in their everything to successfully build a beautiful family but most importantly, they always had more to offer and to give.
Kind, compassionate, and benevolent.
I was blessed, twice.
Ten years ago, for the first time, they opened their home for a sixteen-year-old teenager from India and set out for an incredible experience of cultural exposure and learning.
They welcomed her into their house with open hearts.
I distinctly remember I was hopelessly exhausted from a seventeen-hour long, direct flight from New Delhi to Newark airport. I slept for over 24 hours and when I woke up, the reality of the fact that I was thousands of miles away from my own family, in a different country and a continent across the globe, kicked in.
I woke up and walked down the stairs. Both of them were inside the kitchen, sipping their morning coffee in peace, excited and hopeful that I’d wake up soon and we could exchange our greetings properly.
Instead, I went to them in the kitchen and started crying.
“I miss my mom”, I told them cryingly.
Giving them no chance to ask me if I slept well or if I am feeling less tired from the flight or if the jetlag is still bothering me or not, I stood there, with tears rolling down my cheek, looking entirely unprepared for the journey ahead of me.
“Would you like to talk to your folks back home?” She asked me trying to comfort me.
In those days, social connectivity on the internet was still in infancy and even though I had a Facebook account, there was no option to video call. Video and audio calling happened popularly through Skype and it was cheaper than making international calls, but Skype services were still paid.
She arranged a call for me with my parents and I talked to them for about twenty minutes, after which I felt so so so much better.
An interesting thing about this incident is that post that day, for the next eleven months, I never cried again. Interestingly, I cried when I was leaving them, going back to India.
That was their magic.
I blended in with them like their own daughter. They provided for me like I was their own.
We talked about our individual cultures. They ensured that I experience a good deal of American culture and take back home with me, a bunch of sweet, fun, and meaningful memories.
Whether it was American movies, musicals, operas, or baseball games, they took me with them, so that I could enjoy, witness, and appreciate the art and culture of the United States.
Occasionally, they also cooked traditional American dishes like French toast or grilled cheese sandwiches and never once made me feel left out on any good-food experience because I was a vegetarian.
They made my exchange experience blissful, life-changing, and memorable. No amount of thankfulness can ever match the love, comfort, and care they offered.
I was blessed, twice.
Ten years down the lane, we are still in touch through emails and quarterly video calls (FaceTime). They recently sent me a wedding card expressing how unhappy they were that they could not fly down to India amidst COVID and attend my wedding.
They are my family. I call them mom and dad. They are Americans. They are also the two best people in my life. They ALWAYS cheer me up and even if my entire life is falling apart or if the tides are going against me, I am more than certain that both of them will be on my side, no matter what.
They are my guiding angels and nothing explains their acquaintance in my life better than “luck” and “chance”. I will forever be grateful to them for everything.
St. Patrick’s Day is approaching and I am in Ireland this year to witness all the celebrations. I am excited! I want to thank Ellie Jacobson for sharing this wonderful prompt for the March monthly challenge. Even as I read about it first thing this morning, I knew instantly, what I wish to write.
Context: I spent a year abroad in the United States in 2011–12 as a student cultural ambassador from India. I lived with an American host family for the entire duration of my exchange and built life-long relationships with them. The two persons talked about in this story are my host mom and host dad.
I would have loved to share our picture, but I would refrain as they are mostly private persons.
It is a great feeling to be reiterated of the goodness and the kindness that exists in the world, even as we are living through a time of war. I enjoyed reading this story by EllenEastwood about her experience in New Orleans —
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