Today was normal. After a long time, I lived a day where nothing overwhelming happened. There were no cancers, no deaths, no CT scans, arm slings, or baby stomachs full of a feeling that feels like scared. Just plain old sweeping, moping, washing off of regularly settling dust.

Dadi is talking to her sister over the phone. Papa is reading a book while people on the TV make him feel not-alone. Mumma and babyR are playing hide and seek. BabyR always hides in the same spot, behind my door. Mummy always theatrically misses it. I am reading an unremarkable book. Some Tom is feeling lonely. I hate having Toms’ cis-het voices in my head, I hate thinking their privileged thoughts.

But I don’t mind it today. I am soaking in the boredom; pickling it, storing it in jars to use later. I have waited for a day like this like R waits for her birthday. “Boring banado ji ab iss raatko” I said over and over till it hung between Anxiety and ‘could have been boring’.

Today I sit in my room and R sleeps in hers, upstairs. Dadi is calling another person. Papa switched to another news channel. Mumma is hiding on my balcony as Goldie stares at her. BabyR has stopped seeking. She is playing with a pebble Goldie carried from the park. Tom has moved on to talk to another man. A worry is creeping into my mind. Tomorrow may not be calm. Will it be strikingly painful against the calm canvas of this afternoon?

It may be, but my heart would have had this moment. Both Mumma and babyR are hiding.

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