The Tumultuous Months of 2011
April – the month my children graced Cairo with their innocent presence and got to see where their mummy had been hiding; when they learned the true art of giving and the real meaning of being charitable. It was the month we went wild, failed miserably at pottery, yet smiled because the pottery-guy helped us make pieces to take home with us. It was the month my babygirl realised that horses are quite large animals and my little man jumped off his horse unaided because it wasn’t galloping as he’d envisioned it would. It was the month I rode in the desert for 2 hours on a horse that I initially deemed insane, but who turned out to be just a fiercely competitive mare. It was the month when I confirmed that the Red Sea is far from being red, and is the clearest and sharpest shade of blue my eyes have ever encountered. It was the month I donned a burkini, a life jacket and a snorkel and felt soul-shattering fear of drowning despite being reassured that no such thing would happen. It was the month that I punched fear on the nose and swam amongst sea creatures I cannot claim to know the names of, yet know that they are not the work of some sort of a coincidental bang in outer space. It was the month when I clutched my chest 10 minutes after a bus collision, and cried from the sadness that none of my family would have even known if I had died. That month was April.
May – the month a number was added to my age, and I realised I’m only 3 years away from reaching another decade of life, if God shall grant it to me. It was the month I was sprinkled with gifts and well-wishes, but was the month my soul was crushed by someone who I considered to be so much closer than a friend. It was the month I retreated into a shell away from people and I questioned myself as a daughter, sister, mother and a friend, and it was the month that I asked many questions that I was unable to give an answer to without a stream of tears ensuing. That month was May.
June – the month when a buoy was thrown my way and I reluctantly took hold of it. The month when a moon gave me a little light to guide me out of my darkness and guided me to an outdoor film screening, beanbags and grass included. It was the month when I was able to smile and thank from the deepest pool of sincerity, and finally put a plaster over the wound of hurt. It was the month when I realised the beauty of getting a six-pack purely from hours of laughter as jokes were told on a friend’s sofa into the early hours of the morning. It was the month when I sang songs from the 80s and 90s with 3 crazy friends along Alexandria’s coast, where we made heads turn in Cilantro because there was no doubt about the fact we were foreign! It was the month when the sea lulled me into a tearful trance, and I sat with my notebook and pen, scribbling tumbling thoughts onto pages as the sea encouraged me to go on. That month was June.