“Unveiling Resilience: How Monika Dutt’s ‘My Rock’ Transforms Heartbreak into Strength”
You loosen your grip slightly to shove one hand under the cover. You root around, searching for something. Then you pull your hand out.
In your palm lies the rock.
“I never let go of it, Ma.”
We are back to those wondrous first moments when I ran my finger along your new face. There is a both a beauty and a burden in being needed.
“Je t’aime, balo bashi, kesalul chota. So much.”
We stay like this, me holding you, you holding me. You will be twelve in one hour.
I wrap my hand around your hand that holds the rock. You close your eyes again and drop into sleep. I gently extract the rock and squeeze it tightly with my eyes closed. I put it on the bedside table, the pink glimmering. Imprints remain on both of our hands.
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