By Nimah Ismail Nawwab
The streets of Makkah
Long bordered with tall, tall homes,
White-washed homes, wooden homes,
Built on every corner, mountain top, ridge,
On the valley floor of the sacred land.
Tall, tall homes,
Centuries old homes,
Studded with brown aged latticed windows,
Overlooking mysterious labyrinths, winding walkways,
Alleys echoing with the passage of sounds,
Voices of those long gone.
Voices of families, friends all known to one another,
Welcoming strangers from other lands,
Spending sheeshah-filled nights,
Quite nights, loud nights,
In the open on the dakkah,
Hours of tea drinking, hours of tales,
Brimming with told and untold stories,
Of past generations, present generations,
Held in the collective memory,
A memory retaining the glorious past,
Undeterred by the present.
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I had a busy but successful Friday. In the morning, I dropped Maddy off at the local Paul Mitchell school and salon, where she had a tour and interview in preparation for classes to get certified as a cosmetologist. Christine picked her up and they went out to lunch, then back to Christine's house to watch movies; meanwhile, I came home and watched Federer lose and Murray win at Wimbledon while doing chores to drown out the depressing conservative news radio the guys putting in our kitchen floor had on. I did manage to post my not-very-positive review of Voyager's "Real Life", which unfortunately has not improved with age.
It took a lot of hours and some complications because the plumber who installed the oven in this house decades ago used a shorter gas line than then-current code, so we had to get a new one, but now the floor is finished, there's new molding, and once we get the cabinets painted (a job for later in the summer), it will all look so much better! Paul stayed while they finished, and I went to dinner at my parents' with Maddy and Christine, where he eventually came to meet us. She went out with a bunch of Adam's friends after dinner so I came home and started the process of cleaning up! Neighborhood baby bunny:
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