Born Confused

I will miss my youngest sisters attempt to copy me and make wudu.
I’ll miss how they stood next to me in prayer—head on my elbow.
I’ll miss holding my small sisters when they cry and seeing them laugh and squeal as I roar and chase them in the backyard.
I’ll miss listening to my brother’s confessions—just trying to get certain things he was ashamed of off his chest and feeling so honored he choose to tell me.
I’ll miss talking about hope, future and boys in a closet with my sister until the wee hours of the morning and perhaps will miss even the time where she tried to coach me in how to make sexy faces in a mirror—it took 10 minutes of trying not to laugh.
I’ll miss singing and holding my sisters; stroking them and holding them close and once in the dark I can feel one’s eyes widen and her voice full with awe; “Your amazing”.
I’ll miss playfully fighting with brothers, laughing, challenges, boasting and putting them in their place—for the meanwhile.
I’ll miss running in the grass; barefoot, without a hijab—totally wild and free in the dark—as I and the kids made faces at our uncles in the dining room as they sipped chai with Baba.
I’ll miss hugging my biggest brother and then conspiring with the kids to attack and tackle him: yes, we went through with it but we were unsuccessful.
I’ll miss a brother’s sweetness—I’ll miss tickling another until he laughed like a maniac and sitting on him—oh yes, and I’ll miss throwing pillows at all of them.
I’ll miss the wind, I’ll miss the blue sky which was so vivid in contrast to the tall trees.
I’ll miss a sister’s quiet strength; another, her smile; another her recklessness—putting Indiana Jones to shame.
I’ll miss one of the tiniest sisters asking me to put on the hijab.
I’ll miss hearing “I love you” and even “I aann a princess! You ugly” hahaha.
I’ll miss how all my brothers and sisters gathered; asking about deen, fiqh, tasweer—questioning, questioning, questioning…

And yes, I’ll even miss pinching my father’s cheeks, and when I am delighted or I kiss him—seeing his whole face brighten up. Yeah, it’s a sight to behold.

Jazakullahkhair Oh Allah for letting me miss.

I am reminded day after day why I hate TV so much.

I am at the place of my childhood, of my birth… and yet I feel so uneasy. Towns are wide spread… and I guess I would find it relaxing but let me tell you this.

At least now I know positively my priority isn’t money in life. I am so extremely unhappy with not being free… and when I am unhappy I close up and I stay very quiet.

I also have found out I will never be the proper Arab (or desi for that matter) lady – like woman. I can fake it for a couple of hours and then freak with energy; jumping up and down screaming “sugar!” and dancing on the roof [until I realized there was a family on the neighboring roof].

I have also realized the rich [money-wise] people are not necessarily interesting or smart.

I hate TV.

Been busy with Unity Productions Foundation, MYNA at ISNA and salvaging what left of my pride.

If only siblings watched something interesting like LinkTV, FreeSpeech TV or even UCTV. I feel my IQ has been fried. It’s always on, behind me as I work on the computer–Bismillah.

Something I wanted to share from Sheikh Wikipedia : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Islam_and_children

There’s something about San Francisco… a certain sadness in the area. Of love lost and angst, betrayal and a beautiful pain unspoken in the breathy cool wind. Sometimes you don’t notice it right away. It’s only afterward, when you reflect, you realize that aura was there… so subtle you realize how deep it is and it makes you blink at the ceiling as your chest swells beats to the slight flaring of nostrils.

When the Prophet Muhammad (peace be upon him) saw something good and pleasing, he would say: “Praise be to God with whose blessings all good deeds are perfected.” And when he saw something displeasing, he would say: “Praise and thanks be to God in all circumstances.”

Fiqh-us-Sunnah, Volume 4, Number 125A