Christmas 2017
Dear Ma,
It's that time of the year again. I'm writing from the Himalayas this time. I'm in a small village called Auli. It's beautiful, Ma. I wish you were here. I wish Dad was here. The smell of snow and the brush of the wind; you would've loved it.
As you can see from the picture, I'm making good use of the journal you gifted me last Christmas; the more I travel, the more I write. I'm kind of depending on you to have a replacement ready for me this year as well! I'm sure you're wondering about the addition of a teacup to my stack of books - let me tell you upfront, it was not my idea. I'm not a fan of tea, despite your insistence that it can cure all ailments. Figures both women in my life love tea more than they love me. Yes, you read that right. I have a woman in my life and she loves me.
Well she hasn't said so, but I love her and I hope she loves me too. Rambling aside, her name is Isabella, she prefers Isa but I call her Bell. I'm the only one allowed to call her that, though. Her father used to call her that, she says. She lost him two years back; pancreatic cancer. I know, I was surprised by the coincidence too. But losing our dads the same way isn't the only thing we have in common. She's a writer too. Only she's a travel journalist and is on assignment right now, writing a piece on all places snow.
We met at this resort. Kinda hilarious how we met, though she describes it as horrifying. You know how I sleep like the dead? Well, she thought my tent was hers, and climbed into bed with her icy cold feet and I screamed and jolted awake, which scared the shit out of her. When we both calmed down, she apologised for getting into the wrong tent and then scrambled to get the hundred layers she'd been wearing back on. I told her she could switch the next morning because I didn't want to unnecessarily inconvenience her. Plus she's adorable, Ma. You'll love her.
The next day… well, that's a story she wants to tell you herself. We'll probably be home in another six months or so. I know I said I'll be home for Christmas this time, but I'm not ready, the book is not ready, and I want to see where this thing with Bell goes. We're flying out of India in a couple of days, on Christmas eve, in fact, but I have no gift for her yet. Dad once told me the best gift you gave him was when you told him you loved him. Maybe I'll give Bell the gift of my love. Wish me luck!
Merry Christmas to you and Carlisle! And give Emmett, Rose and the kids hugs and kisses from me.
Love,
Ed
Auli, India