Avalanche

It’s been on the back of my mind to write an article about Parents, since I read a post in one of my fellow bloggers spaces, the post made me think for like some weeks now, and today I finally sat to write an outline for the article.

When I scribble down my ideas, I usually leave the computer every two lines, have a walk around the house, contemplate and so .. it helps with thoughts and epiphanies.

Usually, when I concentrate that much I lose feeling of the world around completely, and today with my mind occupied, many incidents took place contiguously in a shocking way.

First of all, I had to leave my writing session for lunch, this usually means I’m absent-minded during it, I left writing physically but I can’t really stop thinking, until I snapped out of my mind and had a fight with Dad, something to do with a stupid trivial issue I can’t even talk about.

The quarrel put me out of mood totally, and it blocked my flow of thoughts for the article, and I could sense the irony so it was hilarious, I mean com’on writing an article about parents with a quarrel with dad in the middle of it!

This was not the end of it, I had to make a stupid phone call that took forever to be picked up by the customer support of the infamous B-Tek mall (or how the hell ever it was spelled), to send someone to have our new dish washer set up, and figures I’m stuck in the house until 10.00 PM just .. waiting for a call from the technician (God bless him!).

After trying to calm down by thinking about the new born baby cousin my aunt had a day ago, a little girl with the lovely name ‘Somaya’, I love that name so much, and I was trying to figure out what should be the appropriate present for the new born, because according to my sister (Ibraheem: you have to show up with something descent), so I was looking forward to meeting the little thing, but heck, I’m stuck tonight.

I got back to the screen, opened the outline, and I don’t want to spoil the article for you, but I kinda was having a pause at this point: “Let’s say, it was not. That it is perfectly okay to disobey your parents. What will change? What can go wrong I wonder?” and I started the famous song by Mahmoud El-3eseely in the background, his vocals just get to me every time I listen to the song, and they manage to sedate me completely, something about the rhythm and wording, quite the combination actually, especially that I don’t usually listen to Arabic songs at all.

And just when I was about to write down my very next thought, very compelled to finish my outline, very eager to publish it by tonight, very calmed down again by the song, after I gave up my aunt visit waiting for the dish washer setup sometime tonight. And when I was full of thoughts about parents, children, the circle of life, morals and some other fancy proses to bore the reader with, I received the following phone call from Dad after he just left:

Me: Aywah. (I was still mad, the quarrel was just too ridiculous)

Dad: Aywah ya Ibraheem yabny. (a very mellow tone)

Me: Aywah ya Papa, fe haga walla eh (because he just left, not 10 mins, I thought he forgot to pick up something for he was going out of town and so, and I recalled the quarrel and I was like “please mood, don’t run away again”).

Dad: Ibraheem, el baby ..

Me: Eh?!! Somaya?!!!

Dad: Aywah ya Ibraheem, el baby matet men shewaya fel Mostashfa!

Me: (The last time I was shocked that way was years ago!) Yanhar Abyad ya Baba!!!!!

Dad: Aywah ana 7abbet a2ollak 3ashan matkallemsh Tant we yeb2a el mawkef mesh monaseb, bass momken tetkallem delwa2y wet3azzehom.

Me: Yanhar Abyad! La 7awl Wala Qowata Ella Bellah (I said that like three times)

Dad: silent

Me: Tab howa hayb2a fe 3aza walla eh?

Dad: lessa mesh 3aref, bass 2ol le ekhawatak delwa2ty, mashy?

Me: Mashy ya Baba.

Somaya!

Passed away.

The baby was detained for short-breaths so I think that her parents haven’t even had the chance to see their baby! She didn’t survive 48 hours 3ala ba3d! And I was just thinking Somaya is the closest member to my own birthday in the family!

And I was thinking about baby presents :(

While listening to Mahmoud El-3essely.

After having a fight with dad and the stupid call center bta3 B-Tek.

While writing an article about parents.

So.

I couldn’t help but stop everything I was doing completely, and I lied in bed for a while staring at the ceiling, and thinking to myself:

“Ibraheem, this is a feeling you can’t control! You’re human again!”

About the feeling, I can’t really describe it, because I’m still shocked in a bad way, bass if I had anything to learn from it, it’s this: “Life has many things going around, many many things .. and it made me feel very insignificant and weak”.

And don’t get me started on the reflections of “Life is short”.

Because.

It is too damn short begadd wallahe.

It’s too short you won’t even notice you lived it.

And I was blabbering about the mood .. and feelings and life, :(

[God have mercy on her soul, and help her parents in their mourning and grief. Amen]