“I hope you survived the heat today.”
“Yes, it was so hot. It is always hottest just before the monsoons start.”
“True. You need to come back when they have. You must visit Pune then. It is so beautiful!”
This was one of the stranger unprompted conversations I have ever had with an airport immigration officer. I was leaving India. Everything up to this conversation had be routine and scripted. No surprises. No glitches. As I walked towards my queue, the officer at the diplomatic station motioned for me to come through. It was an expected as it was appreciated.
“Thank-you for the idea. I will try.”
As I thanked him and moved on, my mind was replaying scenes my childhood and Pune. Among the memories were references images that reminded me of how financially precarious my childhood was. Then and now I remember that there were others that were living in conditions that made mine seem luxurious. One was the single mother that was our housekeeper and cook. While my parents paid a competitive wage, even then we knew that it was impossible to make ends meet.
With wonderful meals, someone to take care of the big household chores, and keep us kids in line, it was easy for forget was life was when she was not in the home. Her dedication and energy was deep and deeper. With three children of various ages, it was a struggle to have access to something resembling a shelter, save enough for education, and hope for a better future.
Today I am proud to know the same children as friends. They are living example of an old promise; “Your servants’ children will have a good place to live and their children will be at home with you.” (Psalm 102.28) Their children have achieved what seems impossible; doctors, lawyers, and educators making a difference in their communities and mine.
Today I remember my childhood city with a fondness of seeing the children and children of the children succeed in life because an earlier generation embraced each other as family.
