On a day when the profoundly intelligent mullas across the causeway are busy mangling red roses and hunting down hormonal, repressed girls in crimson, we have the liberties to enjoy the day known as Valentines Day. Now regardless of all the retarded emails of warning that I’m going to get today on “do you know what you are celebrating?” and the history of St. Valentine and what it really meant and how it is the end of Islamic civilization, if I give my husband a rose; in spite of all this stupidity, the overpriced balloons at Al Osra, and the Styrofoam hearts in restaurants, I think what today makes me think of, whether I like it or not, is love.
And I do love lots of people in my life, who I don’t really tell that I love, for fear of getting too soppy and emotional and sounding like the ending of a movie about some terminal illness.
But I have to say that today morning, on my way to work, I felt so much love that I thought I had to share it or I’d explode. I felt I should go in a chronological-ish order.
I love my mother and father. I realized this morning that they are my first loves. The first sounds I heard, and the first eyes that embraced me, loving me, even though I was a slimy little snot, that cried all the time and gave them lovely packages of poo, in return. Without them, I wouldn’t be loved by anyone else.
I love my brother and sisters. I love them so much, it’s embarrassing. So to hide it I was really mean to them, bossing them around, teasing them, making them think they were adopted, and frequently running sexist campaigns against my brother for being the only boy in the house. I felt that if they knew how much I loved them, they’d think I was weird. But I love them so much, I always have. And as their leader, mentor and pioneer, I would fight fiercely to the death to protect them from harm, pain or evil.
I love my Grandfathers and Grandmothers, for loving me and playing such great roles in my life. And as each one of them left the world, leaving me in tears at the prospect of being without them, I learned that they have taught me what they know, and I have to carry on and make them proud. I love them all. I loved when Mama Mariam made me khanfaroosh, and when Mama Rafeea told me stories about Iraq. I loved Baba Khalid’s expression when he gave us presents that made us happy, and the way Baba Ali used to pretend he was eating my ears, my nose and my tiny hands. I miss them all so much, especially these days.
I love my Aunts and Uncles, who took over when we were left without grandparents. I love them because they tie us together. I love my cousins, who make me feel like I will never be alone. I love their unborn children, whether I’m here to hold them or not. I love our gatherings on Saturdays and Eid and everything in between. They are the joys in my life, in between the difficult times and the frustrating tasks life throws at you. I hope to have lots of stupidly fun times with them, singing, boating, lounging, eating and being a family.
I love my friends. Those both near and far. Those that call a lot, and those that don’t. I love them all. I love our history together and all the memories growing up and living life’s funniest times (the teen years). I love knowing that they’re healthy, happy, and successful. I would never give them up. I have been blessed with my friends, all the boys and girls that have been a second family to me, have also made me who I am today. I am very thankful.
I love my Husband. I love that he just showed up out of nowhere one day, and proved to me that this kind of love really does exist. I love that he is with me everyday in the morning and at night, sharing movies, food and giving me his hands, when I want to hold them. For being kind, even when I’m sick, grumpy, bloated and looking like a banshee, by hugging me and telling me that I’m cute, (when I’m clearly NOT). I love that he loves the people I love. I love him for being tall, for being sweet, for being mine, for every characteristic both shallow and profound that makes him, him. I know that we will grow old together, because no one else will do.
I love my dog. Because, although she’s just a pet, I swear she loves me too. I love her when she’s sleeping like a doughnut and I love her when she’s whizzing around the house hyper from her bath. I love that she understands both Arabic and English, especially when we talk about her. I love whisker like she was my own little fluffy child….
I love the monkey in my tummy. I’m growing a new love, who kicks me swiftly from time to time to show me who’s boss. I even love the fact that he caused me horrendous morning sickness enough to make me actually lose weight in the first 3 months. My own little dietician…awww. I love that he is part Nayef and part me and part his own unique new surprise. I love that he made rude gestures with his hands during the last ultrasound and then went into fighting stance. It’s going to be fun taming him. I love him for choosing my belly as his starting point, and I hope he will grow up to love me, realizing that he had tugged on my heart strings even when he was just a dot. I love my baby boy. My own baby Ali.
Xxx love you all.
Happy Valentines Day.
