When I was not a mother #WordlessWednesday

This photo was taken at Cocoa Beach, FL in Dec 2006

I vaguely remember the person that I was

when I was not a mother.

I was still into picking seashells

on faraway shores.

Joining #WordlessWednesday hosted by Esha M Dutta and Natasha Sinha


  1. We’d collect them each time and do nothing with them. But It’s always a pleasure to get hold of those beauties yet again the next time when at the shore. 🙂


  2. I truly understand what you mean. I’ve had five children. One passed away from crib death which is when the child stops breathing in their sleep for some reason no one knows, but the Lord left me with two girls (oldest & youngest) & two boys in between. My husband unfortunately was not a good man & left us & we were faced to go on our own, but we did have a good life anyway. We all grew up together I think and it was a good life. I worked very hard, but we were a loving & happy family.


  3. It’s good to flip through those photos which remind us who we were once upon a time. Then we wonder what had happened to that person who we knew so well! Good photo, Anamika.


  4. I can “feel” the thoughts as clearly as I can “see” the image you’ve shared and I have to tell you, both of them connote something that I can relate to, very very closely! There’s so much you’ve said between those lines.
    Glad to see you link up last week, and hope to see you this week too, Anamika! 🙂


  5. Its such a childhood thing to do to search for sea shells on a beach- I dont think I have ever gone a a beach and not come back with pockets full of sand and shells – lovely picture Ananmika!!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.