12.31.2015

Time

I was lying in bed just now when my phone buzzed a Whatsapp notification that turned out to be from Baba. My family was still in Mecca and he sent me a number of photos (and selfies of himself) he took. One of them was showing him and Yusuf completely bald, which resulted in Yusuf's appearance looking fatter than ever and Baba looking older.

Oh, he seemed so old. It was as if Yusuf was his grandson.

Unlike any other nights, I just bursted into tears when I saw the photo. Tears of longing and hope. 

Yesterday, on my way back to Newcastle on the bus, I saw a French man who seemed to be in his late forties. He was with his wife and 3 daughters going on a trip, I assumed. On the bus, I happened to be the one sitting nearest to the toilet. During the ride, one of the daughters, looking possibly just about to hit puberty, wanted to go to the toilet, and her father accompanied her. At first when they were approaching the toilet, the girl said something to him in French with worried look on her face, but the father just replied something vaguely in French and gently encouraged her to go. The girl went inside the toilet, and the father just waited there the whole time she was in until she was finally out showing a relieved a face and he just smiled.

Long story short (but aimlessly prolonged by me, as usual), he reminded me so much of that little girl who was too lazy to wake up in the morning for school, and her mother ironed her school uniform and brought them to bed and she just wore them lazily under the blanket, and every morning, her dad  drove her to school. That girl was me. Every morning to school seemed endless for me at the time, as if everyday for the rest of my life would turn out just like that, and I remember very accurately, that I had always wanted it differently, I just couldn't wait to start my life by myself, with my own apartment, with real life challenges, and traveling to beautiful places on my own. I'm technically there now, although I'm not financially independent and I'm still on my fifth year. But I'm now living in a spacious flat, completely alone, doing research in one of the cities of UK, and just got back from wandering in Edinburgh.

Yet, half an hour ago when my dad sent me that notification, I cried like a little girl I once was. 

Because I long for them, and I never want to lose them. And in between my shaking sholders and my helpless sobbings, I pray with all my heart to God, that I shall never disappoint them, and that they're given a good life in this world and in the hereafter, and my biggest fear of them receiving punishment for my sins will never have to happen.

Right now, I'm still dependant on them (and always will be, emotionally), but that dependency gradually decreases over time. And soon when I've got so much going on around me and spend more time in taking care of strangers as it is my job, I'm scared that I would forget that dependency. It was easier to appreciate them when you're still little, because everyday you saw them around taking care of you.

Life indeed passes by like a blink of an eye, and most of the time spent with our loved ones have unfortunately been taken for granted.

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