Last month while in Peshawar, I had to decide whether to keep the toys belonging to my two older grandsons when they were babies, or give them away. My heart didn’t want to part with them, but practicality demanded I should give them to other babies to enjoy them instead of collecting dust.
There was Winnie the Pooh who wanted honey every time you pressed his stomach. Another one was the dancing cow–who danced so prettily, a duckling who made various sounds, a goofy brown bear, and so many more. The one I loved most was Humpty Dumpty made by myself for my first grandson H. It brought back happy memories when I held H for the first time in my arms, when the nurse brought him outside the delivery room. It seemed a miracle to gaze at the newborn baby, and finally see him after a nine month wait.
There was another first time of seeing him before he was born. I had done an Isthahara when my late husband, and I decided about our son’s marriage. I saw in my dream a toddler walking in front of me. I was following him, knowing I was his grandmother. We never knew whether the baby was a boy, or a girl, but I was certain, it was a boy based on my dream. The dream came true.
I made three different piles of the toys, and gave them away. It was sad parting with them as they were items of a past when my husband was alive, and the babies of my son lived with us.
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