Antara
by Anushka
Anushka, tu kai kurthiae?
My cousin's voice rolls
Along with her eyes and her head.
With two year old wisdom she understands
That I am packing to leave.
She knows I should be playing instead.
I smile, and pick her up,
Making memories of her short, dark, sweet hair
Her already expressive, asking eyes,
Their perfect, precocious questions.
She picks up her doll and does the same.
I smell India, and baby powder,
I feel her baby warmth and love.
My mom snaps a picture of our overseas sisterhood.
Weeks later and cultures away,
I find it, and miss my Antara.