They say your name is the first gift you ever receive, but today, I realized it’s also a time machine.
As my birthday approached, my phone began to buzz with messages from childhood friends. They didn’t use my formal name or any of the titles I carry today; they called me Soumya.
Hearing that name felt like a warm wave of nostalgia. Soumya is the girl who existed before the "300-page life" got complicated. She is the girl who laughed without reservation and dreamed without limits. To be called Soumya today was a grounding reminder that no matter how much I evolve, that core version of me is still alive and well inside.
A Miracle from the Almighty
This birthday has felt like a series of small, perfectly timed miracles.
My husband brought home a mango cake, and my brother sent a stunning bouquet of orchids and a chocolate cake. But the moment that truly took my breath away happened at my son’s school.
Entirely by chance, my son and his teacher spent time today writing a letter to me. They had no idea it was my birthday tomorrow. My son sat there, focused and intent, decorating a piece of paper with vibrant colors and hand-drawn flowers just to tell me he loves me.
In a world where we often have to "ask" for what we need, receiving something so precious without asking felt like a direct message from the universe. It was as if the Almighty had planned this miracle specifically for me—a reminder that I am seen, I am loved, and I am exactly where I need to be.
The Perfect Connection
The magic didn't stop there. As we were just about to cut the cake, my family organized a conference call. The timing was so precise it felt scripted as we were celebrating much ahead of midnight for my son's school. Suddenly, the miles between us vanished.
There I was, surrounded by the scent of orchids and the taste of mango, listening to the voices of the people who have known me since I was just "Soumya," while holding a letter decorated by my son.
Refined and Grateful
As I officially turn a year older, I am realizing that life isn't about the grand, "Notebook" style gestures. It’s about these quiet, miraculous alignments—the name that brings you home, the unexpected letter from a child’s hand, and the family that calls at the exact moment the candles are lit.
I’m entering this new year of my life with a full heart. I’m carrying the sweetness of the cakes, the beauty of the orchids, and most importantly, the colorful, flower-covered miracle of my son’s words.
To my readers: Sometimes the universe has a way of giving you exactly what you need, right when you need it, without you saying a word. Have you ever experienced a "miracle" that felt like it was planned just for you?
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