Do not reblog –Entering 2016 with hesitation, bad skin, and a lot of love. Sometimes I for
Do not reblog –Entering 2016 with hesitation, bad skin, and a lot of love. Sometimes I forget how dearly I am loved, because love lives so far away. That’s not good enough a reason, I try to tell myself. I promise myself I’ll get better at remembering this, and other things. Love is mired in borders, financial troubles, and in distances – none of which have been working towards its favour for the past six years. As always, Lahore greeted me with the warmth and laughter of an old friend. That old friend who you always remember for their quick mouth, their precise tongue in cheek humour, always charming and freespirited. I kissed and was kissed so much, I broke out for the first time in months – on my left cheek, a little way down my eye. I hugged my grandmother three times when we finally met. I held hands with my sisterloves, ones I’ve known since I was three, ones I’ve shared tender childhood laughters and tears with, ones I hadn’t seen in too long. Other things: baby cousins with untarnished sincerities, orange trees, rooftop dinners with the perfect breeze and live music, icecreams you only find there, sweetest and biggest anaars I’ve ever had, badshahi masjid aur androon shehr Lahore on a night with a full moon, late night walks with reverberating laughter, bazaars. Learning that some will always fight forthrightly, some have given themselves to silence – understanding both. Eating sugarcane in 17 degrees weather, trying to convince my grandmother to put our house on airbnb for Lahore and her repeatedly saying she doesn’t want “ghair mard” in her house. Returning to and being surrounded by the love and sincerity from which I had severed myself from for too long. Learning what I was wrong for resisting for so long, honouring what is sacred. I promise myself I will find ways to atone, grateful even for the possibility of redemption.Two days from now it will have been seven days to me leaving Lahore, and landing here. In the past five days I cried while washing the dishes, on the prayer mat, and on the kitchen floor. I am still jetlagged, and the isolating noiseless snow reminds me of what my mother said about winters here. I am settling back slowly, I went to work yesterday and started writing a little this morning. I entered 2016 lying in the lap of my aunt who lives in Multan, has contagious laughter, and cries five times a day and only when in submission to Him. I thought of how I entered 2015, I thought of everything in the past year that had brought me to that moment of lying in her lap. I think, for that second, I was thankful even for the drudgeries and shame. I cried and I was kissed by her. To keep love alive, to be humbled by remembering, and to pay attention. These are my prayers for the new year. -- source link
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