...to record this absolutely precious night. Changed into a freshly laundered pair of white kurta pajama, a combination that I have probably not worn since I was a child. Opened the fridge to find gifts from my father - 4 custard apples. I take one, break open its crusted skin, and dig into the cool, sticky flesh. I peel the thick bits off the seed or suck the sweet meatiness off them. It's sweet, cool, and exquisite. And through my mouth and into my heart, there's a great explosion of gratitude!
Bliss.
Bliss.
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