There are times when I don’t like it when someone calls. One is at prayer times. The phone starts ringing, and I pick up the phone expecting a short call. The call goes on, and on. The caller won’t end the call, and my prayer time is over. I’m the guilty party too. I forget I was going to say my prayers, and it’s easier to lay the blame on someone else. Sometimes I think it’s an act of Iblees (devil) to keep me away from saying my prayers on time, and stop my audience with Allah.
I do love chatting with family, and friends, but there are moments I don’t. Whole days are over, and no one calls, and then I get deluged with calls. My sister– she disappears for days on end. She never answers her phone, and then she is like calling day, and night.
Then there are calls from home country. My relatives never, ever remember that when it’s daytime there, it’s night here. The call comes at 2am, or 3am, and I can’t go back to sleep when sleep time has been disrupted. I get sleep deprived, and then have a hazy mind all day.
If only I could have short chats frequently, and for a few minutes— not for hours on end I will be one happy person.
Dinner time at the mosque
Why is it when you have to get ready, and plus cook something to take along as your contribution to an evening fare at the mosque, friends, and family phone you? I’m dying to talk to anyone, and nobody remembers me. Suddenly everybody starts phoning on the very day you don’t need them to call, and there is an influx of calls.
I tell myself I will only talk for a minute, and the minute extends to three hours. Can you believe it?
When Son called to ask, “Mom! Are you ready?” I wasn’t.
I was lying on my bed with both feet atop pillows, still talking on the phone. It was embarrassing . I rushed to get dressed. We reached the mosque for the evening prayer which is called Maghreb Prayer. After that plastic sheets were laid on the carpet for women, and kids to have food. The men had their upstairs.
After food, we waited for the night prayer which is called Isha. Meanwhile we chatted till the muezzin called for the Isha Prayer. Done with prayer, we took our leave. It was snowing outside, and terribly cold.
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Our apartment looks kind of messy with boxes yet to be emptied. There is no storage space. Yesterday I had asked Son whether he will have some extra time in tidying up the corridor, and his room. What is he doing? Still asleep in bed, as I wait for him to wake up……
The first day I reached here, I was tired, and sleep crazy with the long journey. I was on auto pilot longing for sleep, when Son dragged me to the local mosque telling me he had arranged a dinner in my honor, and I had to be there. Later on he laughed when I confronted him on his bare faced lie. Actually it was a monthly get together of families, and everyone contributed a dish except for Son, and single folks like him.
It’s obligatory on Muslim men to say their five times prayer in a mosque. Thank God it’s not obligatory on women. They can say their prayers at home. At moments like these it gladdens my heart that I’m a woman.
It was supposed to be a get together this evening. Due to bad weather it has been cancelled this month. I had taken a bag full of chicken breasts to make Haleem. I have to utilize it, as it’s defrosted. I suppose I will have to put the rest of the Haleem in the freezer for another day.
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The future of our home — the planet Earth is in jeopardy. If you throw stones at someone, you are bound to get hit by stones too. Threatening someone with a nuclear strike is no laughing matter.
Please God forgive us our sins, and save us from ravages of a nuclear war. Ameen.
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I have never needed an imaginary friend to come rescue me from my deepest, darkest thoughts. I was friends with almost all the girls in school, college and my neighborhood.
Life after marriage was a busy period of my life. My children and my late husband took time and energy to deal with them. The only thought in my mind was about how to get enough sleep to recharge my batteries. Un-interrupted sleep became elusive.
The One, Constant Friend in my life has been God. He is a true friend. He Listens, solve my problems and brushes misery away. He is always Present whenever I call Him.
Many of us had imaginary friends as young children. If your imaginary friend grew up alongside you, what would his/her/its life be like today? (Didn’t have one? write about a non-imaginary friend you haven’t seen since childhood).
IB playing on his 2DC upside down. I caught this photo from upstairs.
IB (my youngest grandson) has gone to Peshawar. He along with his mama, and Sn (brother) is spending summer vacation there. I won’t be seeing him loading his chocolate chips waffle onto a plate, and drenching it with maple syrup. It’s his favorite breakfast. I miss him.
We go to collect our mail from the mailbox at night, when we have our 2-3 miles walk. The mailbox is at some distance from our home. No blue jay lurks at night, must be safely ensconced in its’ nest. Though I have seen blue jays in the mornings in our backyard.
I don’t keep pets. I have to say my daily prayers, and that means my clothes shouldn’t be defiled by a dog, or cat touching me. So no dogs, or cats for me (I don’t yearn for them anyway). That means I will never have a dog named Bob.
A Dog Named Bob
You have 20 minutes to write a post that includes the words mailbox, bluejay, plate, syrup, and ink. And one more detail… the story must include a dog named Bob.