“You look tired.”

She watches me innocently ,curiosity flickering in those wide, unburdened eyes. She is radiant, untouched by time, her heart brimming with hope.

“No,”I smile, shaking my head. “Not tired. Just… older. Wiser.”

“Have you done it?”
“she asks eagerly. “The things we dreamed of? Have you fought for them?”

I exhale, my fingers tracing the edges of the old photograph. “Some, yes. Some I lost. Some I had to walk away from—not because I wanted to, but because the world’s ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ were too heavy to fight alone.”

Her face falls. “But we never give up.”

“No,” ..I say softly. “We don’t.”

She studies me, searching for something. “Do you still dream?”

“Every single day.”

“And the fire? The one we always promised never to lose?”

I hold her gaze, letting her see it in me—the fire of a woman who has risen, again and again, after every fall

“I knew it!” she grins.

“Are you proud?”I ask her.

She doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she studies me, her eyes tracing every line, every scar, every story I carry.

“You became an ophthalmologist..a surgeon.”She doesn’t sound surprised—just satisfied. “You held trembling hands and gave them sight again. You walked into rooms where they doubted you and proved them wrong, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You became a mother too.”

I nod. “I gave her wings, and she learned to fly.”

A slow smile spreads across her face. “Then yes,”she whispers. “I am proud.”

I close my eyes for a moment, swallowing the lump in my throat.

And as I sit here holding this photograph, I finally face the truth.

She is me, and I am her.

Separated by years, bound by the same fire.

The girl staring back at me is me—27 years ago, on the eve of my engagement.

And as we look into each other’s eyes across time, we both know—“we made it.”….

Suvi’s Scribbles