The Daughter Who Comes Every Christmas

The Daughter Who Comes Every Christmas

Some daughters are born into your arms.

And some arrive once a year — wrapped in winter jackets, jet lag, and a love that fills the house instantly.

She is my bhabhi’s daughter — my niece.

But to my daughter Kiku, she is so much more than a cousin.

They live abroad and visit us only once a year, during Christmas holidays.

That’s why Christmas isn’t just a festival in our home.

It’s a reunion.

It’s warmth.

It’s waiting that finally ends.

Two Girls, One Pure Bond

Kiku and her elder sister-like cousin Annie, who is 8, share a bond that doesn’t understand distance.

They laugh together.

Cry together.

Play endlessly.

Listen to my stories curled up next to each other.

Imitate me — which is hilarious and mildly alarming.

For 25 days, the house is louder, fuller, happier.

We Celebrate Everything (Because Love Doesn’t Check Dates)

We celebrate their birthdays together — even though neither of them is born in December.

Because what matters isn’t the calendar.

It’s togetherness.

We celebrate just to make them feel special.

Together.

Always.

The Hardest Goodbye

And then comes the day none of us are ready for.

Suitcases come out.

Silence sneaks in.

Everyone pretends to be strong.

We cry.

The kids cry.

Adults cry quietly and call it “allergies”.

It’s emotionally distressing — because you’re not saying goodbye forever…

You’re saying goodbye for now, knowing it will hurt for a long time.

And then they leave.

Innocence That Breaks Your Heart

This year, after check-in, they came back to the departure gate to say goodbye one last time.

And Kiku looked at them and asked, very seriously:

“Are they back from the US?”

No, my love.

They’re still leaving.

That one question carried innocence, hope, and heartbreak — all at once.

Watching Them Grow, One Year at a Time

Each year, Annie returns a little taller, a little wiser, a little more herself.

And Kiku waits — with the same excitement, the same love, and the same open heart.

Their bond remains untouched by time zones or oceans.

Pure.

Honest.

Uncomplicated.

A Dream Spoken Softly

And then came a moment that stayed with me.

They told me they want my stories —

Not just written.

But as audiobooks.

So they can hear my voice.

Even when we’re apart.

If only I knew how.

But love has a way of teaching us things we never planned to learn.

Until Next Christmas

When they leave, we wait.

All year.

Because some bonds aren’t measured in days spent together…

They’re measured in how deeply they’re missed.

And some daughters don’t live with you —

They visit your home,

but stay in your heart every single day.