Migo, Vigo, Jodi, Spark, and Namla

Anas

I run outside my breath, a gasp. My feet stop, in shock. The moon is full tonight. A breeze slides over my skin. The tide… still crashes on the shore. I try to breathe. I can’t. How has the time not stopped… tonight? I go to the sea. We sit. We wonder. We reminisce. We wonder how many school lunches they spent to fell… a man of his might. The sea takes me in her arms, whispers words of comfort just as meaningless tonight as they have been, for years. He was a man I never met, but with all the pride, and ferocity, of a sister I call him my brother. He was a man I mourn tonight, as the sea’s waves lap at my feet. Blanketed by the dark, there is no one around. I wish I could drown, that the sea will swallow me whole. I feel helpless. The weight of the world… is heavy tonight. I give charity in his name. I pray for him. I hold him in my heart. Every tear that falls from my eyes carries his name, like a cherished pearl. Morning takes me by surprise. ...

Old Pictures

Photo by Josef Maxson on Unsplash They ask to see old photos. I show them. After all, that’s why I kept them: to give my children a sense of their history. Just four more days, then I won’t see them for eighteen. I won’t hold them close or smell the unique fragrances of their heads. They ask for one more, after I say, “The end.” I indulge. I snuggle a little closer. But every picture, as I describe what it is, where it was taken, and the story behind it, takes a toll on me. My breath catches. My heart races. My mouth grows drier by the minute. The nerves in my hands are firing full force. I keep going, until I truly can’t breathe anymore. I say, “Just one more. That’s it.” We stop. I smile and tell them to head upstairs, fighting hard to keep the tremor out of my voice. I hug myself as they run upstairs, trying to catch each other. Then, I hear a whisper: “That was fun, right? Looking at all those pictures?” My heart stops, unknowing. We traverse new territory every d...

Mouse King

I miss Busboys and poets. I miss Community forklift. I miss watching local theater plays at the Silver Spring theater. Except I was no more lost now than I was then. That sentence sounds ominous. I am almost 31 weeks pregnant. Or perhaps 32 based on what the measurements were at my last exam. I finally had an exam after months. Yesterday was the glucose test. Weeks after it was supposed to be. Supposed to be's, should be's, could've been...yada yada yada. I miss DC. Home of my heart. I even miss Maryland. I miss me. The carefree me. I mean, I wouldn't describe life before marriage to be that, but there was a glow in the days before I tethered myself to a man, supposedly for life. Life. Married for life. That's what I thought I was. Guess I thought wrong. I don't miss it. Or him. Alhumdulillah that's a blessing. I don't think I never will. I am afraid it'll hit me in one large wave once the nastiness of this divorce is over. Like a complete washout....

Story of a life

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