BismiLlah
"Farzeen Khala, we're gonna play basketball..." said one of my nephews.
"Oooh, you are! Good!"
Each armed with a ball, the older one took a shot and managed to at least hit the rim. The younger one tried his mightiest to take a shot and succeeded in getting the ball just above his head, at least one metre shy of the rim.
"Dulla thkored!" announced the younger one.
"He scored! Yayyy!!" We all cheered.
My mind soon scanned over all my episodic memories, reminding me of all the good memories. All my memories are good (even the ones of my naivety and stupidity) because they all have taught me so much, for which I am tremendously grateful. My parents, both of whom have always worked very hard, gave me and my siblings what money could never buy - their time, their love, and their wisdom.
The journey that my siblings, cousins, and I have taken has been much more curved and adventuresome. There were the young days when going to bed meant that my sister and I would seek out all nine other people in the home to hug, kiss, and say our usual good night words to. It was on such a routine night venture that I have a fond memory of chasing my cousin around the small house that all eleven of us called home at the time. There were times when we'd fight with each other at one moment and play with each other at the very next moment. A common theme in many childhoods. Our teenage years were more diverse, as we each sought different ways to define ourselves. It wasn't that long ago when my sister would ask that I close my bedroom door so she wouldn't have to hear my collection of nasheeds playing, and I would close my door so that I wouldn't have to hear her heavy metal songs.
Times have changed.
***
Today is a different day. No more are we the children, but now we are the adults. Struggling. Struggling as I imagine all adults have done and will likely continue to do. Each of us chasing something unique. It's the most difficult to chase the abstract and to get others to understand what this quest is about.
Will we ever be good enough for each other? My weakness tells me no. My strength tells me yes.
Will we ever be good enough for ourselves? My weakness tells me yes. My strength tells me no.
***
I think about tomorrow. Tears are for achieving strength from yesterday, for conquering anxiety today, but I'm praying for smiles for tomorrow.
My only tomorrow is just one day. One moment. One more breath. My last. That's my tomorrow. I want to meet tomorrow with a smile from my heart.
Ya Rabb! Bring us closer to You. Let our return to You be beautiful, as you have promised the believers. To You we surely belong. In all truth, it is to You we belong. Bless us with a sweet return home, ameen.
Update: 2007-02-11
I was thinking about my statement, "all my memories are good." This is inaccurate. Praise be to God, most of my memories are... but I've failed to shed light on some things and there are some feelings that haven't been pleasant and can never be pleasant. I'd hate to say they're 'bad' moments of life. God has blessed me with so much, I like to consider the less-than-perfect moments as checks that add balance to life. Praise and thanks belongs to God alone.
"Farzeen Khala, we're gonna play basketball..." said one of my nephews.
"Oooh, you are! Good!"
Each armed with a ball, the older one took a shot and managed to at least hit the rim. The younger one tried his mightiest to take a shot and succeeded in getting the ball just above his head, at least one metre shy of the rim.
"Dulla thkored!" announced the younger one.
"He scored! Yayyy!!" We all cheered.
My mind soon scanned over all my episodic memories, reminding me of all the good memories. All my memories are good (even the ones of my naivety and stupidity) because they all have taught me so much, for which I am tremendously grateful. My parents, both of whom have always worked very hard, gave me and my siblings what money could never buy - their time, their love, and their wisdom.
The journey that my siblings, cousins, and I have taken has been much more curved and adventuresome. There were the young days when going to bed meant that my sister and I would seek out all nine other people in the home to hug, kiss, and say our usual good night words to. It was on such a routine night venture that I have a fond memory of chasing my cousin around the small house that all eleven of us called home at the time. There were times when we'd fight with each other at one moment and play with each other at the very next moment. A common theme in many childhoods. Our teenage years were more diverse, as we each sought different ways to define ourselves. It wasn't that long ago when my sister would ask that I close my bedroom door so she wouldn't have to hear my collection of nasheeds playing, and I would close my door so that I wouldn't have to hear her heavy metal songs.
Times have changed.
Today is a different day. No more are we the children, but now we are the adults. Struggling. Struggling as I imagine all adults have done and will likely continue to do. Each of us chasing something unique. It's the most difficult to chase the abstract and to get others to understand what this quest is about.
Will we ever be good enough for each other? My weakness tells me no. My strength tells me yes.
Will we ever be good enough for ourselves? My weakness tells me yes. My strength tells me no.
I think about tomorrow. Tears are for achieving strength from yesterday, for conquering anxiety today, but I'm praying for smiles for tomorrow.
My only tomorrow is just one day. One moment. One more breath. My last. That's my tomorrow. I want to meet tomorrow with a smile from my heart.
Ya Rabb! Bring us closer to You. Let our return to You be beautiful, as you have promised the believers. To You we surely belong. In all truth, it is to You we belong. Bless us with a sweet return home, ameen.
Update: 2007-02-11
I was thinking about my statement, "all my memories are good." This is inaccurate. Praise be to God, most of my memories are... but I've failed to shed light on some things and there are some feelings that haven't been pleasant and can never be pleasant. I'd hate to say they're 'bad' moments of life. God has blessed me with so much, I like to consider the less-than-perfect moments as checks that add balance to life. Praise and thanks belongs to God alone.
9 comments:
Memories... like the corner of my mind. Misty water-coloured memories, of the way, we were...
Sorry, couldn't help myself!
Jazakallah for sharing your lovely reminiscent thoughts. I had a lonely childhood, so i love to hear about big families. Inshallah, i'll establish my own one day!
Assalaamu'alaykum dear sis
Ooh.. the poet unveils herself. masha'Allah :). "Misty water-colour memories" .. very nice :).
Wa iyak. Insha'Allah one day you will have a family of your own...may Allah put baraka in your family and home, ameen. Big families are beautiful, but they sure have their share of challenges. I guess that's with everything and thus we call it life. The shortest journey we know.
Hey, have you ever written an autobiography or thought of it? I quite enjoy biographical works ;).
Ahem...
I would love to possess
the poetic prowess
that wouldst so impress
my dear, sweet princess!
And though it cause me some stress,
I am forced to confess,
those words i professed,
were of musical press.
So think not of me less,
if i were to suggest,
that your praise shouldst address
Ms Streisand (at a guess).
Now, I shall cease to progress
in rhyme i detest,
as explaining this mess
was harder than chess!
Assalaamu'alaykum
*Applause*
One rhyme all the way through.. now that I call skills sister. :)
(And despite what you may think, poetry is not my feat..rambling incoherent thoughts is..lol.)
Thanks for the lovely rhyme! I'll search for more of your elegance in near time. :) --now I'm starting to feel like Dr. Seuss...hehe.
Wa 'alaykum salam sis!
I wasn't joking when i said that poem was harder than chess (which i don't know how to play!). It took me a while to compose!
Let me be the judge of your ability, missy! Anyway, poetry isn't just about rhymes and sentences stretched out over many lines (any idea what they call that?). The language you use when you write an entry, and the concepts you mention, are also be poetic, IMO.
Btw, why did you ask if i had written a bio?!
Wa'salam
Assalaamu'alaykum sis
Well I'm not surprised it was a challenge..it was all one rhyme!..hehe. Thanks for your kind words. Jazaki Allah khayr.
I asked about the biography cuz I enjoy reading them (and that came to mind as I was typing my last comment).
So if anyone else is reading these comments and has some biographical writings to share, please do. Biographical works are intriguing (so are metaphors and other types of fiction... ah, writing is great, isn't it? alhamduliAllah).
Wa 'alaykum salam, again.
Well, this is not a complete autobiography, but a long while ago i was asked why i believed in Islam, and i wrote a long response explaining how i had reached my current state.
The link.
It's been sitting on the front page of my blog for a while now, but perhaps you didn't notice it.
I'm a little corny in places... It wasn't written with the intention of being a "professional" entry. It was just a very, very, VERY long, but sincere, reply!
Salaams,
Just popped by to say "Jazakallah" for the comment on my bio.
Born again Muslim - very funny!
Wa'salam
Me
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