Smiling at the nothingness.

Going out with my mom pushing me in that light blue baby's pushchair, he jumps out of his seat next to our building's entrance, smiles at me and then helps mom to land with me safety on the ground. After those hefty few minutes with him holding the pushchair down the stairs, he throws a nice compliment and his lost teeth show, and as a kid, I giggle.

Growing up and going to school at 7 am, I'd still find him sitting there next to our building's entrance with his legs crossed and his face thinner. He says "Salamo Alikom ya Daktora Reem", and I reply back "Wa Alkaykom Al Salam" and smile. Nothing special, I walk away.

Sitting with dad in the car, he rushes to clean the front glass and I see him breathing harder as his arms move tiredly. He smiles at us from behind the glass, dad and I smile back. Nothing special, we drive away.

I grow a tad older, I run to school every morning without noticing if he's there or not, every day I pass by, sometimes he is sitting there, other times not. It doesn't really matter.

A summer vacation after a long year of middle school arrives, and I welcome it with open arms and a light soul by playing at the garage. He shouts at my neighbor and I for making noises while playing, I grumble and frown.

Sitting with dad in the car, he rushes to clean the front glass and I see him breathing harder as his arms move tiredly. He smiles at us from behind the glass, dad smiles back, I don't. Nothing at all, we drive away.

I grow a tad older, I run to high school every day. "Salamo Aliko", and he replies back "Wa Alkaykom Al Salam ya Daktora Reem". I smile and hasten to my destination, yet I still notice it all. He is growing old, jaded and tired. I don't know what to do, or there is nothing I can do actually. I arrive at school and all the thoughts are gone.

He is tired and he has to go back to his town. A new guard is here, but he can't replace him. Sometimes I miss him in the scene, but I don't think of it that much, nothing special.

He is back. He is not our official guard, but he is back and he is sitting there, again, next to our building's entrance saying the Salam to everyone who passes by, and sometimes he is helping the other guard of our building.

Going to college, I find him sitting there; I smile at him and say "Salamo Alaykom", but I get no reply. He is really old now and I tell myself that he must have not heard me well. I take faster steps to college, nothing steps.

Going back home after a hot long day at college, he asks me "Where are you going?", I mistaken it for the casual Salam and replies it "W Alaykom el Salam", he nods as climb up the stairs.

Dad tells me that 3am Anwar is dead. I don't know what to feel and suddenly, his face lights up in my mind and I can count his wrinkles. They are too much and his eyes aren't fixed and he is completely toothless. His cheeks bones are showing and his back is bent. His voice rings in my head and it sounds so deep. I see him sitting there, in my head. I feel helpless and regret not valuing him enough. I should have because it is something special. His presence is
was. He is someone special, for he protected us and watched me every day and smiled. I feel bad for not making sure to brighten her days the way he did to most of mine. I feel bad for not thanking him every time he helped mom with the grocery bags, washed the car for dad or even sat there.

Going to college next morning, I say "Salamo Alaykom 3am Anwar" silently inside my head, I hear him replying back with his deep shaky voice. I smile to the nothingness and walk hotfood down the road to college.

Rest in peace.