Oh my loves (all 4 of you)…where have I been, you wonder?

It was a month of emotions, so overwhelming that writing may not have contained them. So fluid that they dripped off the pages, dripped out of me, in tears of happiness and sadness, salty as I remained lonely though physically surrounded.

There were weddings, vacations, deaths and illnesses. There were personal triumphs, academic pursuits, and a reinvigorated commitment to a community that continues to frustrate and challenges me.

How many hands of hennah I filled, so intently, touching old wrinkled hands and young fingers covered in chocolate bits. Holding hands, caressing the lines, creating designs, and feeling your warmth was so comforting. How we ran up and down with flower arrangements here and your wedding trousseau there. How I watched you spin around in your outfit on the mendhi, and smiled through tears as I danced at your mehndhi. I was so happy.

I held your hand as you signed the nikaah documents, shaking. On the prayers that came out of my heart for you, my love, my sister, my dear friend. I found myself blowing on you as you as my grandmother would, blowing on you softly with pure breath after my heart was so filled with blessings it would have burst had I not blown it out.

I pinned your veil carefully, playfully poking you and introduced you to the world as you walked out on your reception day. My voice quivered as I read your sehra, my world shook as I hugged you goodbye and held your mother. That night I packed for my own trip to a far away country. And as I packed I cried like I never have before. Ever.

I cried in your empty room, uncontrollably and fully. I cried with such selfish pleasure.

And I walked on to a plane, from the arms of family to the teasing banter of sweet friends with their jovial laugh and energy. A sweet friend whose eyes show the concern of a sister. And so we were uninhibited in this place that knew us not. Our sun burned under the sun and we indulged. It felt sinful this luxury - the hours of massage, sand under my feet as I perused magazines, and laughed endlessly.

I am closer to a decision about the other things. But writing them makes them real. And tonight, is not the night for that reality.

And the most tan I have ever been, and loving it.

Missed you all!

Muslim Helps Jew Attacked on Subway

(from cnn.com)

Not so surprised that it happened, yet I will admit I was tickled. Growing up in a tight-knit Jewish community, bar mitzvahs, matzah and the JCC were household words. It was still a time where we bound together from the commonalities of being minorities, from our strong commitment to education, and from the fact that our alphabets began in such similar ways. It was a time before I had ever heard the word “Palestine,” it was a time where I would stare with wide eyes at my best friend’s coffee table book, “Israel” at the rolling hills, olive trees that jumped out from the glossy pages. It was a time I spun around singing menorah songs, and humming “I had a little dreidel.” My Jewish best friend would come over and watch my family pray maghrib, and my mom would make her “shakr roti.” (Her favorite). She would smile and thank Allah for the food with us. She would say Amen, I would say Ameen. She fasted the days of Ramadan with me, her mom making us iftar. We thought we were sisters, and later I realized that far more connected us then blood - it was a tradition, a culture, a Prophet, a Book.

I don’t know when religion became awkward, when we parted ways gradually, unassumingly, without drama. The Jewish Community Center became her life, and she went to Israel for a year. I went through a roller coaster period of activism, protesting the great evils. I haven’t spoken to her for ten years, and I desperately try to find her as times got stranger. As towers fell, and bombs were raining, I wanted the comfort of our friendship, and our innocence.

Why this article led me to these thoughts, and that friendship, I don’t know. I just know there was a time where the Jewish community felt like my own, where I went to their swim classes, and the recitation of the parashah rang in my ears post-shabbat. And I wonder, how we got from there to here. From that feeling of unity, to utter shock when a Muslim simply breaks up a fight, to protect a Jew.

I wish I could say my shock only came from the fact that something remotely positive about Muslims was in the news. But I would lie if I denied the small part of me that was surprised at more than just that.

P.S. By the way, here I am. A moderate Muslim. Talking about loving Jews, talking about the beauty of a good act, talking about peace. All the people on the blogroll to the right are doing the same. Don’t try to tell me I don’t exist.

On non-stop as I study. I love her, the song, her acting. Everything. I especially love the mother-daughter interactions, so endearing. Oh yeah, and the man is beautiful.  BEAUTIFUL!

If only this could happen to me!