ُ بِسْمِ اللَّهِ الرَّحْمَٰنِ الرَّحِيمِ

As i sat on the sofa facing the xx inch plasma screen, i could only imagine what it’d cost. It was big. A mini cinema was what the living room seemed to me. The brown and baby pink wallpaper that covered the living room walls was one to stare at in awe. I was getting so comfortable on the couch it felt like a 5 star hotel I had never been to. For a moment there, I wished i could call it my home.

Bsimillah” She said. I looked up and she smiled, so did I. But more at how elegant she looked in the gold studded black abayah she had on than her being courteous enough to bring us drinks. They looked like those I saw in a magazine once. SISTERS MAGAZINE maybe? But the brand made only customised abayahs. Hmm, that explained much.

Alhamdulillah” i replied to her offering. Not that I didnt want to have a sip (as I had implied by my saying alhamdulillah), but I was taught modesty. Still smiling, she gestured to my- 7 year old- brother to help himself. So, he did.

I flipped through the pages of the album she had brought and I wanted to be a part of those moments. The trip to Paris, the holiday in the UK, shopping in Dubai…did that little voice say “why not me?” I hope not.

“We need to be going, tell her we came when she returns.” My mum’s statement hit me as it brought the consciousness of reality back. Leave? Oh no! Not yet…please:'(. The air conditioner’s cool breeze was ni’imah enough and I wasnt ready to leave. Not yet atleast.

“Let’s wait for her a lil more maama, i’m sure she’s on her way.” I said, pleading-ly. If that is even a word. Atleast it describes for me my tone.

“You know it’s juma’ah, we need to hurry and return home in time for our pre-maghrib qur’an recitation and du’ah.” She said in all honesty.

Like a punch in the face telling me to wake up and recognise my own blessings, the real blessings in this life that transcend to the after-life, my mother’s words struck hard. She didnt realise it, but it did.

And with grace I stood.

We returned home, my own home. Where I first learnt the words of submission. Where I was taught gratitude and contentment. Where life was more than just trips overseas, but a journey of hearts. A journey we still are on…a journey of hearts united by blood, a journey to the one true God.

{َ رَبِّ أَوْزِعْنِي أَنْ أَشْكُرَ نِعْمَتَكَ الَّتِي أَنْعَمْتَ عَلَيَّ وَعَلَىٰ وَالِدَيَّ وَأَنْ أَعْمَلَ صَالِحًا تَرْضَاهُ وَأَدْخِلْنِي بِرَحْمَتِكَ فِي عِبَادِكَ الصَّالِحِين}َ

“My Lord! give the ability that I should be grateful for your favor which You have bestowed on me and on my parents, and that I should do good such as You are pleased with, and make me enter, by Your mercy, into your servants, the good ones.” {Q27:19}

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