The Cairene

Right now, I am sitting by the shore, with the warming sunrays falling all over my swollen skin and charging It with protons of positive energy. I won’t ask for an umbrella, I will let it penetrate me; I need it. The waves’ sound softly hit my ear drums and I loved their melody, accompanied with the laughs and giggles coming from  the people around me. They are happy, I can tell it from their faces. They are happy, but let’s not generalize because we never know. I watch the splashing waves and get involved with their beats inside my ears. It feels good. I am actually amused because I suddenly have found the answer; it’s nature. All the family members are reuniting together, happily, to have fun and a good swim in the salty water. It doesn't matter how salty the water is because all the talks are sweet and filled with love, warmth and unity. It’s the nature, locking up all the chains and bonds of families, relatives and friends.  I look around again, searching for someone on thei

Today, I was chatting with a friend of mine when I had to look down at the keyboard searching for a number. I don’t usually need to search around for letters but today I did and that’s not the case. I noticed my wrist, hands, not so thin but long fingers and my fair soft skin covering my flesh. I gazed at my veins stream, which are probably not popped out enough for me to recognized them, and then the image of my Grandma’s (May her pure soul rest in peace) hands vividly stroke my mind. I remembered how veiny and shaky her hands were. They were all full of light brown spots and ageing freckles.  It amuses me how things change with no remarkable transition stage. I am almost 19 and I didn’t know the back of my hands so well, and I probably can’t remember how it looked like when I was six. I never noticed although I wish I had. It’s amusing how skin can scan the age in such a divine way. I know I am just talking about the skin of the hands now, let away the face, its marks, wrinkles and

Since the day you held my tiny body, kissed my forehead and sang me to sleep. Since the day you watched me grow up and become who I am today. Since the day you helped to be organised and patient. Since the day you taught me how to fold my shirts. Since the day you taught me how to not press so deep while writing in pencil so I can erase the mistakes easily. Since the day when I went to Grade 2 and you were so proud that I was one of the first students in my class to be writing in pen. Since the day you taught me how to pray and how recite perfectly Qura'an with Tajweed. Since the day you stood on your feet for 5 hours when I was doing surgery. Since the day you taught me how to use the fork and knife and how to eat like a classy young lady. Since the day you taught me how to treat people and how to cross the street. Since the day you taught me everything and worked so hard to make sure I have a safe future, till the day I watched you grow old and weary Till the day I watched you,

I know I hate kids and I am so nervous around them, yet I really can't wait to have my own so I write interesting bedtime stories, smile as they beg me to read it to them in bed, witness the fire glowing in their eyes as they listen to me reading it, and then watch them fall asleep before I reach the end.  I want to write them stories about revolutions, war and peace. Fiction and non fiction. Reality and fantasy, love and hate. But most importantly, I want to write them stories that won't ruin their adulthood, stories where everything is real. They will thank me for it later, I guess. Note: Parents who don't read to their kids, you're doing it wrong.