So my grandfather’s sister, Salima, is visiting and I’ve always really liked her. My grandpa left to the store so I sat with her to keep her company, in attempt to be polite. She started telling me stories from growing up with my grandpa and grandma. She said that she use to live next door to my grandparents in Jordan. She was telling me how she was terrible at cooking and had a lot of kids. My grandma on the other hand was a great cook and everyone in the town that they lived in knew that. She said that sometimes, my grandma Julia would make a big tray of food and put it in the front yard on a table for the kids who played outside to eat and they all loved her. She only had one tray and she would use the same one everyday. She also didn’t have silverware or plates so they would all just eat out of the tray with their hands. My grandpa’s sister continued to tell me how simple life use to be and how hard life is now. Anyway, I just want to write this down before I forgot it because I thought it was interesting and I love hearing stories about my grandma because I miss her. 

Dear Grandma,

Happy Mother’s Day. It’s 3 a.m. and I am thinking about you. I keep thinking about that time you weren’t allowed to have carbs because your diabetes was acting up and your doctor said to cut back. You had been in bed all day because your legs were swollen and you weren’t feeling well. You told me we should cook and watch a movie and we were both fans of pasta, because I mean, who isn’t? We had the house to ourselves so I cooked up some pasta and poured us some red wine and we watched an Arabic movie. You kept telling me what was happening in English although I understood all of it, I still would look confused then say  ”Ohhhh!” when you would explain the scenarios because you were smiling as you were talking and I was happy to see you smile. My Dad got home an hour after and was so mad that I was drinking wine because I was 16  and that you were eating carbs and drinking but you told him to relax and that ladies can drink wine and he should have a beer and to relax and he listened to you. After the movie was over I helped you back into bed and I laid on your bed and you held my hand and told me stories about when you got married and stories from your childhood and that might be one of my favorite days with you. I miss you so much. 

You only know sadness once you’ve felt real happiness. I’m afraid that nothing will ever compare to how happy I was when you were around and that I will be miserable. 

My younger sister has asthma. She’s been wheezing all day. The sound of her wheezing triggered a really bad childhood memory that I feel like talking about. She was five at the time and we were living in California with my Mom. A week before, me and my three other sisters were in Vegas with my parents. They decided to split us up. I knew my Mom was poorer than my Dad by a lot, and I knew it would be a hassle to choose her, but I remember her crying. And my younger sister felt bad too so she picked her too. Anyway, our living situation was nothing great. It was a two bedroom apartment. For some reason we didn’t have furniture or electricity yet. We had only been there for a couple days. I remember having to go to bed when the sun went down because the apartment would get pitch black. My Mom use to sleep all day because she use to take a lot of pain killers and my little sister and I would play with the neighborhood boys and sneak into pools. My Mom made a friend at some point. She lived on the opposite side of the apartment complex. She would go have drinks there every now and then and leave me and my sister at home. One day, my younger sister’s asthma was acting up. It wasn’t terrible just yet but it was just acting up. All of her medication was back on the East Coast at my Dad’s house. She even had a fever. My Mom still went to her friend’s house that night. I was about 9 or 10 and I was sitting there with my younger sister in the dark. It wasn’t too bad because we had some light up toys and I was trying to play with her but she was frowning. She didn’t talk much as a child. She started to cry and I didn’t know what to do. She started breathing strange and I tried to calm her down but she wouldn’t come down and that’s when the scariest noise came out of her throat. I got up and ran faster than I probably ever have in my life. I found my Mom’s friend’s apartment and banged on the door, sobbing and embarrassed and told my Mom. She called an ambulance. 

-Blueberry Tea. Brewed. ✔

-Rain falling from the sky. ✔

-No work. ✔

-Incents lit. ✔

-Messy, comfy bed. ✔

-Guitar in tune. ✔

-Full pack of cigarettes. ✔

-Cookies. ✔

-Acrylic paint/empty canvas. ✔

Okay, I’m all set. 

It feels like a hot summer night in a hotel room. And the sheets are sticking to my skin. And she hasn’t come back yet. And I’m staring at the door. I’m hoping she’ll come in. I stay up till 7 a.m. and still nothing. I watch reruns on t.v. and eat my left over fast food. I wait a little longer then fall asleep. I wake up and the sun is down. I lay down and my body hurts from not moving. I stare at the door. I think of all my past mistakes and I cry. I’m too scared to get out of bed. I can hear sirens outside and the couple next door are fighting. My stomach hurts. I’m hungry but confused and lost touch of reality and time. I stay up and my eyes burn. I opened the door that day and the sun light hurt my eyes. I wanted to take a shower and go for a walk but I just couldn’t. I didn’t bring a change of clothes and I felt gross. I went into the bathroom and stared at myself. I played with my hair and moved my mouth around. My reflection started to scare me so I looked away. I laid down inside the bathtub and starting humming to myself. I started singing. I didn’t recognize my voice. I sounded tired. I laid there and made up things in my head. I made up stories about the life I wish I had. I didn’t eat still. I didn’t sleep. I don’t know how many times the sun rose and went down from that point. I stayed inside of the bathroom and drank from the sink when I couldn’t take it anymore. I wanted to die. I was scared and alone. She came home. I had a fever and I was hallucinating. I couldn’t talk. I don’t remember anything from there on except the emergency room. The lights. It was Vegas after all. The lights. She was crying and saying sorry. She never told me where she went but she said sorry so I never bring it up. I can’t get over it. I can never be normal because of it. 

I’m not saying that I need to be with someone all the time because I’m feeling self-sufficient these days. All I’m saying is, it feels nice to be called pretty and have someone ask you about your day. And nothing more. You’re not mine. I’m not yours. But I’ll care for you from a comfortable distance and I hope you’ll continue to do the same. And thank you. You came smoothly into my life when I needed someone. I wish I had the guts to actually say this to you but for now, it’ll be on here. I really want to say thank you. You helped me more than you’ll ever know. Sweet dreams.