Saturdays With My Childhood
- Phases & Phrases
- Oct 6, 2021
- 2 min read
Sunny, cloudless blue skies
A typical Egyptian late summer sky
The smell of jasmine wafts in the air
As I crush a few petals under my bike
I take out my 12-year-old
We struggle to carry the bike till the parking
It’s all worth it as we
Glide down the slope
exhilarated,
wind filling our lungs.
Hair swaying behind, knotting itself
Like a peanut at the hands of squirrels, our cheeks break into a delightful smile
unbridled joy
Thighs burn as we go back up the slope,
steadfast and dedicated we make it to the top and glide down to
do it all over again until we’re exhausted
Poof, she disappears as I enter the house,
The 5-year-old skips over hold my hand
Leads me to our blue room,
Such a conscious kid of gendered colors, who loved pink yet
Blue room
We twirl and pirouette to reach the comb and hair ties
Rush to Mumma with the things in one hand
the other making waves from
the last tom n jerry episode.
That’s probably where I lost my faith
because no matter how hard I prayed, how much I hoped
I would never see the lady’s face
The dilemma, my grandma’s soft hands folding mine in a prayer
She is so wise how can she be so wrong
From the syrupy bittersweet moments of friction
yes, I’m referring to my hair
yes, I’m referring to perspective’s conflict
Rose my 16-year-old,
Eyes heavy with sleep and smudged kohl
Chapped lips
Speaking words that found their way in many’s lives,
albeit unknowingly.
Their quiet rebellion of staying up till 3
reading the honest truths both bad and good of the world
It was only with her that I noticed the night sky,
Sparkling stars, an old wisened moon sitting upon its throne.
Clouds whose colors were hidden by the darkness, emphasizing the blank state of the world
Ready to be colored in my colors
The clock strikes midnight
I put away my chits, my portals to these kids
notes people left me from those time
Like Cinderella, they’ll vanish into hibernation,
Till next Saturday
When I go to meet them again
-p
Comments