I make a shy comeback on the blog this morning.
It’s been almost two years. Too much has happened.
I’ve developed an undying affection for Lady Gaga (now always a star in my eyes), I’ve written my first book in Arabic AND for children (can’t get any better), I freelance on full-time basis now (I know, right?), and the most magical thing of all? Almost 1.5 years ago (around the same time I went MIA on the blog), Mr. Love and I were blessed with the most squishable and vibrant little energy ball. Everything I love about Mr. Love, and few things I don’t dislike about myself either, she’s an amalgam of warmth, but saying she’s been keeping me on my toes would be an understatement.
-Zaha in a Bekai field, August 2018-
Life has become, no matter how prepared I thought I was, chaotic. All this talk about making her part of our lives, and carrying on as carefree as I would have liked us to be, turned out to be nonsense. She became LIFE, as simple as that really. And then over a year later, having given her time, love, space to grow, I see in front of me a confident independent (except at bedtime naturally) kind little human, and my heart explodes every single day.
I would like to believe I did a pretty good job, Mr. Love too. He’s been a true rock throughout this whole parenthood journey, and I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings. Right now, I want it to bring more squeezing, more winter (Hey Dubai), and surely more writing. I’ve missed you.
I’ve been having micro-nightmares, possibly implied by all things scary haunting the media on regular basis. Aging frightens me. Not my own aging, but my parents’. Having lived in a different country for the past 11 years, means that- in spite of all my efforts to be as present as I can- I am not by their side everyday. Surely technology is helping, but is not enough. Neither are the 30 days off I get per year (Thank God for the public sector).
– at the Soap House – #AFFOB
As hard as I try to brush the thought of it off my mind, and as true and realistic as I am, aging still frightens me. I know it’s the drill, and the cycle of life (and all that jazz), but these parents made me, and my siblings. Their love created me, and then nurtured me into becoming the person I am today. And as I woke up this morning with these deliberations in my head, I thought of the struggle I’ve been witnessing in the media, of refugees sharing their stories (Humans of New York ‘s Brandon Stanton depicts it best). As difficult as getting misplaced and humiliated is, their biggest ache always comes from losing family, and their biggest relief and hope, despite it all, is having managed to keep their family close.
I am grateful today, for having had my family near (far, but near), and having had the blessing to be raised amongst them, and my hope for me and Mr. Love, for our generation and generations to follow is to be able to give life and love to our children amongst our families, in a kinder and safer world.
Mr. Love proposed. He swayed my way like a beautiful tango by the sea. I had been adjourning that moment in my mind- I didn’t know what to expect. I didn’t know when the “right” time would come. I might have been expecting a poke from the Internet of All Things confirming that the time was right, or a blog post from Susan Miller urging all 32-year old Virgos to get hitched.
“where the magic happens”
But Mr. Love proposed, so unconventionally, so randomly, as he has accustomed me to. And this randomness does me so well. It cools down the blown-out-of-proportion nerves in me, and soothes the train of what-ifs in my head. It gives me a breather, and gently carries me back to the “now”, and the now is a good place. It’s warm in the now. It’s fields beaming with sunflowers; it’s skies pouring tiny drops of glee; it’s rainbows promising more nows tomorrow.
Mr. Love proposed, and my heart and mind, for once, were in agreement. The “right” time paused and it all sank in. I’m right where I want to be. I’m right where I am meant to be. It’s me, the man I love, and that beautiful tango.
A classmate shared this video few days back and I’ve been meaning to post it on the blog.
The power of words when coupled with strong visuals is mind-blowing.
Gemma brings back the character of her grandmother to life so beautifully, in less than 3 minutes, using a simple and moving descriptive technique.
I know I’m getting a bit “technical” this month, but all for a good cause.
Bear with me while I get through this journey.
But this video’s a must- watch, for real. Thanks Praxia!
I woke up to this view this morning. My family’s been visiting for a week and while I’m greatly enjoying our short getaway, I can see their excitement dissipating as they watch the news of agony and misfortune in Lebanon every night.
– Good morning Fujairah Spring –
Having trained my mind to take a numb bystander position re- regular horrific happenings in Beirut, I can not but highlight how truly fortunate I believe I am to be here today. Dubai has offered me a whole lot throughout the past seven years: warmth, friendships, love, sense of security, personal and professional growth. I have not once felt that I do not belong or that i am treated differently.
With the famous #mydubai hashtag going so viral, my real dubai is actually not a snapshot, or a video. I need not document an aspect of it to remind myself or convince others of its timeless beauty. Mydubai is this calmness instilled in my heart every morning and night, knowing this is home, away from home.