Memories

in Mother
Wouldn’t you love to remember how it was exactly like when you had your first kiss, first day at school, the moment you said, “I do” or that second you woke up from a wonderful dream? Wouldn’t you like to feel that hug your mother gave to you when you felt down just once more? Or even that day when you thought the world was trembling down right before your eyes and then another door opened.

God gave us so many gifts we are hardly aware of. The gift of feelings, memories and the way we treasure them.

Today, I was there. I was at that long blue breakfast table, half asleep. The table that witnessed many family gatherings and happy and sad days. My mother presented me with an egg and a cup of tea.

“Mother, you know I hate tea. Why do you still make it for me?!”
“Oh you and your fussy eating habits! You always have to be different.” My mother replied.

I tied my shoelaces, carried my heavy school bag on one shoulder and took one last look in the mirror before leaving the house.

“Hey!” My mother called as I was walking out of the kitchen into the garden that leads to the big black gate of the house.
“Aren’t you going to give me a kiss?” She questioned with a wonderful smile on her face.

I miss my mother terribly. Believe me, I am not a schoolgirl any more. I am a 26 year old English teacher, photocopying a page of a book to prepare for the next class. Today, in flashes of seconds, I have felt and saw that kiss my mother gave to me and that winter frost early in the morning when I walk up to school.

As I peeled my orange, ripping it into 2 halves, the exact same way my mother used to when she treated me as I study hard in a far corner of our house. The smell of the orange filled the room with its wonderful citrus scent. Every house in Iraq had an orange tree as well as a palm tree. We ate lots of them during winter. Families would stock up on them as people love them. There is no way you could miss the zesty smell of the fresh organic oranges as you walk into our kitchen.

I picked up an orange peel closer to my face. I couldn’t help but drop a tear as I smelled my home in it. Flashes of my school days’ memories ran through my head. I truly felt that kiss my mother gave me before I left home to go to school and that last hug she gave me before she picked up her bags and went back to Baghdad. I saw her smile so close up I could almost touch her face.

I don’t need photographs, videos and all those gadgets. They could never make me feel how I felt this afternoon.
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Memories

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This article was published on 2005/11/23