A letter from ...

Son, watching you from afar

grow and become a man has been the most painful feeling ever. Yet, I've always been proud of you. You have turned out to be strong, confident, caring and gentle.

I may not have been around, but you have too many blessings to count. And I want you to know that I have been with you in every step of the road.

You've always been in safe hands, and now you're even in safer and warmer arms. Arms that hold you through the night.

Son, I couldn't be happier because you chose her, as your partner.
Do you know that she can't sleep unless you're home, safe and sound?
Do you know that she thinks about you during the day, even when she is very busy?
Do you have any idea how much she cares about you?
She washes your clothes before hers, checks if you have all of your medicine and makes sure you have eaten.
These are indirect "I love you"s and they are far more valuable than words.

Every night, I smile down at you both knowing how fortunate you are.
Every night, I realize that my prayers from above have not gone in vain.
Every night, I wish I can kiss both your foreheads good night.
Every night, I whisper three words in your ear: I love you.

Love, 
Mommy,
From Heaven,

Salty Scars

In the morning, I heard my mom talking to my dad. She asked him why none of the countries that spoke her language would let us stay there. I knew she was worried. She usually sang happily to me, but this time her throat sounded dry and her voice seemed sad.

Later on, she came to me, smiled and put on my favorite bib. It was blue and white, and it had a bear on it. She told me that we were going somewhere nice and that she loved me.

My dad dragged a bag out the door, and we followed him. They both looked back at what we called home with heaviness that filled the room.

On the bus, my mom breastfed me until I fell asleep. When I woke up, my dad was asking another man for directions as my mother cried.

After a while, we sat in a moving thing. My mom used to call it “boat” in one of her songs. It rocked like mommy’s hands. There was wind which blew my bib up in my face. My mom held me tight against her chest and whispered our usual night prayers. Only I know it wasn’t bedtime or night.

All of a sudden, I heard screams. Water was everywhere. I was drinking salty water without wanting to. I didn’t know where my mom was anymore. I was going under the water.

Then, I could hear my mom humming lullabies. I opened my eyes. I saw birds. I was walking. I was in a green field with flowers, waterfalls and blue skies.
She was right. I was going somewhere nice. And I’m happy I arrived.

A tornado

He pulled a photo out of his pocket: outdated sunglasses, fuzzy hair and two geniune smiles.
Pictures, memories and a few letters are what he has left.

Why was he remembering her anyways? He considered her dead.
According to him, there was no earthly form of her anymore.
Although she existed in real life and she was present in every corner of him, he still opted to think she has left this world.

Sometimes, he’d get weak. And he would imagine her somewhere cooking in a kitchen, chasing a baby around a playground or just reading a book like her old self.
But NO, he would soon push that thought away.

Or he’d picture himself running into her, smiling at her, talking and catching up on all the lost years.
Yet, NO! The girl he knew was resting in peace. It was more comforting to believe that way.

Other times, he’d wish they would auction her so he would make the highest bid, anytime, anywhere, anyhow, just to win her back.

She was a tornado he walked into, a truck he drove under, a disease he caught... And he never fathomed he could love someone he hates so much.

Why?

I took the lid off the nail polish bottle and let two droplets fall on my sanitary pad. I waited for a couple of minutes then I called him and asked for tissue paper.
He walked in, handed me the napkins with a smile and left, not noticing the fake red spots I had made.

Who am I kidding? When and why did I start lying to myself and to him?
Perhaps because this was the last proof of my womanhood, and it has already started to elude me.

I ought to face the ugly truth: my body is now drier than the Sahara Desert.
I’m no longer that young girl with chemicals streaming down her veins. I’m an old woman trapped most of the times in an oven-like body.

I confront my mirror reflection and sigh. My legs can be mistaken for the surface of the moon, and a mosquito landing on one of my “craters” can become the Neil Armstrong of its species. My belly arrives two minutes earlier than me. And my face needs that magical steam machine at the dry cleaner’s which gets rid of all the wrinkles.

Why does he keep on loving me?
I couldn’t even do what any woman – asleep, awake, willingly or unwillingly – can do.
I couldn’t make him a father. I couldn’t bear a child.
My womb is just an empty storage room with lifeless walls. It was, is and will always be effete.

Why am I still his world? The reason behind his smile? His best friend? His backbone?

To all my questions, he always has the same answer:
“Because even time doesn’t have the power to end a love which cannot be explained.”

Damned!

Someone once told me that we are damned to remember the things that never really happened.
Those expensive sneakers I wanted as a boy, that motorcycle I wished I drove, that business deal I aspired to sign, that person I dreamt to share a roof with, and other thoughts were all engraved in my head like tombstones.

I walked through memory lane so many times, it became run-down like a pilgrimage passage. I was familiar with each pebble and every single piece of sand on that road. And I still walk it even if it led to the same way and even if we never crossed paths.

I hated her.
I hated her when she lied.
I hated her when she stopped caring.
I hated her for making me love her so hard.

I hated myself for pinching her whenever she made fun of me.
I hated myself for getting angry at her.
I hated myself for believing she'll be mine forever.
I hated myself for wanting her so bad.

I hated her and mostly I hated myself because we kept on choosing each other again and again, yet we gave up in the end.

Two girlfriends and five years later, I still love her.
And if they dusted my soul for fingerprints, hers are the only ones they'd find.

Redamancy

His sight followed her as she walked out of the store. She was busy but what a vision she was. Her dress hugged her bones and tiny curves, and her hair fell on her back flawlessly.
Her presence was peculiar. He had always admired her.
And he strongly longed for her.

He missed being contaminated by her energy, by her glowing aura. He missed how he felt around her. He missed her voice and the trail her fingers made on his face.

She put fireworks in his dark skies, played music in his dull halls and grew life in his barren lands.  He never believed someone was capable of doing so.

Also ... he missed how she loved him back.
Her redamancy was a mirth, a treasure. A treasure he lost. A treasure he let go of. A treasure he threw in the water for someone else to fish.

Regret ate him up. Each day of his life!
He didn't cease thinking about her. He couldn’t get her out of his system.

But little can he do.
She was now loved by another man. A man who holds her hand, who takes her out dancing and who squeezes her tight in his arms, like he used to.

10 Things I Value!

As a baby, I hated old people. I was fixed to a TV screen or a computer monitor most of the time. And I liked pens more than toys.

As a teenager, I spoke sarcasm fluently. I made fun of everybody, including myself. I pranked people, laughed at others and went crazy A LOT!
I turned down boys and wasn’t nice to them, for no reason! Even though I looked like Harry Potter in a wig.
I made stupid decisions but I created memories.

Growing older, I changed. I shifted into a more quiet person, a listener, a thinker. But most importantly, I started appreciating things.

February is my favorite month. Not because it’s cats’ breeding season, if you’re thinking it or if you’re hearing two cats burning some calories.
But because every end of this month, a year is added to my calendar.

For this reason, here are some of the most important things I value:

-          Do everything - and I do mean EVERYTHING , out of conviction.
Wear those orange jeans, eat that fattening sandwich, sleep all day! Do it, whatever it is, no matter how insane or logical, because you want so! Never let anyone tell you what to do or not to.

-          Never EVER regret anything you’ve done in the past.
Because at that point in time, it was exactly what you wanted.
So even if you dyed your hair blue, went out with a dorky boy or ate 4 burgers for lunch, don’t hate yourself for doing so. (Things are usually not that simple, I know!)

-          When people talk about you or judge you, it says more about them.

True character is stronger than reputation.

-          Always give people the benefit of the doubt.
Each person of us is fighting his own battles and demons. So even if someone hurts you, don’t put too much effort into holding grudges. Just forgive and move on.

-          Be thankful, and be happy over little things.
One rose tops a bouquet. A home-cooked meal conquers a fancy dinner. And a hug is priceless.

-          Talk about places, feelings, interests, hobbies, future plans, ambitions.... Just not people.
A geniune personality wins every single time! 

-          Be passionate! And enjoy anything you do!
Pour your heart out into that instant noodle soup! Sing your lungs out! Dance as if ISIS is gonna ban music tomorrow.

-          Create your own style.
Don’t starve yourself in order to buy a pricey purse. A bag, a pair of shoes or a shirt won’t make you fashionable. A sense of style comes from within you.

-          Never base any friendship, love or work relationship on fake feelings/words. Always stay true.

-          Work shapes you. Even if it didn’t kill you, I’m sure you wished it did.
The world is a jungle and WORK throws you in the heart of it. Learn from your mistakes, fight, work hard and create the best version of you!

I’m not trying to be wise or preachy. I still have a long path before I narrate my stories to my grandkids. But until I do that, I’ll keep on being sarcastic. I’ll stay crazy. I’ll always be an annoying student and I’ll create memories each day of my life!

I picked her!

I did not know where I was or who brought me here. It was dark outside or perhaps the curtains were drawn. I removed all the wires attached to my wrists and attempted to find my balance.
I gathered all the strength I had left and dangled my feet in the hopes of walking. I entered a large room with big neon ceiling lights.

And there they stood; each and every single girl I had ever loved, cared for or had a crush on.
Their eyes shifted to my direction. Their bodies did not move. 

I wasn’t sure if my mind was playing tricks on me or if it was only an eye illusion. 

My head started pounding. I tried to hold on to a pole at the entrance of the room. Whatever they had injected in my veins was causing this. My grip grew tighter. I didn’t want to lose control. My brain was definitely hacked into.

And then, I saw her. HER!! She, who made everybody else seem dull in comparison. 
She was the one who lived in my unconscious days or years; I have lost count.

I walked towards her. She softened her gaze and half smiled. I wrapped my arms around her and at last I felt complete.
I did not care whether I will be damned or sent to heaven, as long as I’ll get to be alone with her.
She placed her warm lips on my neck. A kiss I could never become immune to. My entire body tingled. My heart fluttered.                 

                                                                                            
She murmured my name and wiped a tear I had shed. I wanted to tell her how I felt. But she already knew.
Even with a hijacked head, my heart picked her. I picked her. And we will always do.