π️ 06.07.2025
"Love doesn't always
arrive on time. Sometimes, it stumbles in late—with pizza and cake—but its
presence is no less profound."
It was July 6th—our seventh
wedding anniversary. But instead of waking up with flowers and a warm wish, I
stirred under the weight of cold, cough, and medicine-induced drowsiness. Two
days of discomfort had blurred the date, and I forgot the very day that had
changed my life years ago.
My wife had quietly hoped,
waited... and then, as I later found, left a tender anniversary message on
WhatsApp before drifting into a nap. That moment hit me hard—guilt crept in
like a shadow. I hadn't just missed a date—I’d missed her anticipation.
In that quiet remorse, I tried to
find my
own little way of making things right. I ordered a butterscotch cake
and pizza—not just for her, but in honor of the whole family. Siri had been
asking for pizza for days, my mother was moments away from asking for an
evening snack, and perhaps—I hoped—this surprise would be more than a
consolation prize.
And it was. When the doorbell
rang at tea time, smiles bloomed on familiar faces. The children lit up. My
mother, unexpectedly fed before asking, beamed. And my wife—though silent—wore
a gentler expression. Forgiveness often speaks in small gestures.
We later visited the temple—my
wife, Siri, little Sindhu, and I. Seeking blessings under the quiet of the
evening sky felt like the perfect punctuation.
The day had begun with soft,
fluffy idlis. And in observance of Muharram, my wife had prepared Chongya—a
sweet laced with memory and meaning. By evening, our little home echoed with
clinking cake forks and laughter. The guilt melted into grace.
It wasn’t perfect. But it was
real. And sometimes, the beauty of togetherness is found not in flawless
planning—but in the gentle recovery from forgotten moments.
As the years pass, it’s not
perfection we celebrate, but the grace we give each other in the imperfect
moments—and the quiet love that always finds its way back home.
“7 years of growing, forgetting,
remembering, forgiving—and always loving. Smiles that healed the guilt, a
temple run under dusky skies, and the sweet surprise of pizza at tea time.
Here's to the ordinary magic of family.”
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