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A Holiday to Remember

Eid. It is a joyous occasion; new clothes, henna, family gatherings, Meyla (carnivals), and three-day-long celebration. Like all other children, I always looked forward to Eid days. We had a small house with a big yard in Khoosh-haal Khan. When my cousins visited, we had so much fun playing games and tending to the herd of chickens we had. My paternal grandmother lived with us which meant, my dad's side of the family would gather at our house the first day of Eid. I and my sisters (8, 6, and 3 respectively) were disappointed when only my aunt and uncles came and none of my cousins. It was mid-afternoon and as our guests are getting ready to leave, a rocket hit our neighborhood. After hearing the noise repeatedly, you learn to distinguish between a bomb and a rocket and if the target was a house or open land, and how far from you. This one definitely hit close by, maybe four or five houses down, the house crumbled but there were minimal screams. Of course, we all ran inside to
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Once upon a time in the bakery line

The rain was coming down in a hurry. Muddy road was difficult to walk on. It was cold and windy. I was almost there. I could see the line forming outside the bakery and was relieved to see few people. That meant I will go home with bread this evening. It was midday, after my school and my lunch, I was making my way to the local bakery to stand in line for bread. I don't remember the politics of how and why. All I knew was there was food scarcity, and we needed bread. Mom had tried at another bakery in the morning before going to work and dad had been to the bakery close to his work. The day was almost gone, and we weren't sure if we will have bread for dinner tonight. So my mission was to bring home the bread. When I arrived at the bakery, only about 10 people were in the ladies line and about 15-20 in men's line. Since each line would take the turn to buy bread, that meant I would be 20th in line. I was happy, I had both of my shoes on, a broken umbrella to keep dry and
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Memories

Memories have a habit of sneaking up on you at their disposal. Some times they coincide with your current activity and some times they just show up. Don't blame your heart for memories. It is your brain that keeps a log of your memories, your heart merely responds with emotions. For example, I was talking to my coworker about our early settlement struggles and all of a sudden a memory popped in my head and made its way to my conversation. It was a memory that hadn't visited me ever before and I wasn't expecting my own reaction to be so dramatic. My eyes swell up, my throat tightened, my heart overflowed with emotions and I burst into tears, unable to control myself. The memory was of the day we (myself and my 3 sisters, my mother and my grandmother and my little brother) had to say goodbye to our father and our last known residence and embark on our journey to US. My mom was ironing some clothing, our bags were packed and lined up by the stairs, soft music was playing, it
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It's Me!

I love my extra curves, my wrinkles, my age spots, my flawed body, my scars, my puffy tired eyes, my laugh lines, my wrinkled hands, my tired feet, my stretch marks, my white hair strands, and all. They are prove that I have been through the mill of life, that I have had struggles, failures n triumphs. They are signs of my hard work, staying up late, running around, laughs n cries, my worries n my joys. I had been stressed cause I care, I have loved ones to care about. They are the indication that I wasn't born privileged and I worked hard n earned my way in life. Put my appearance next to my experiences, my accomplishments and my pains n that's when u get a true picture of me. U will see then how beautiful I am. If you want to minimize me to my physical appearance, that's not my problem. If I was concerned about that, I wouldn't have gotten where I m in life. You can be obsessed with your mirror image or you can live your life with purpose.
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lost identity?

United States of America, the land of hyphenated citizens, is like a safe house for many people around the world. It is certainly true for me. I wasn't born here but I have had many of my best experiences and opportunities here. I earned college degrees, chose my career (even changed it with no social limitation), worked as I wanted, made my own life choices (some didn't work well), broke old traditions without retribution etc. I can  go out of my house without fear of being raped and killed, can leave my house without a man accompanying me and dress as I preferr. I am safe from many life threatening phenomena that women face around the world. I have lived the best moments of my life here, in this land. But I can never venture too far from my afghan roots. I spent the crucial learning years of my life in Afghanistan. Most of my values and personal preferences are based on my upbringing in Afghan culture. Those values and standards were refined by the education I earned and the
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There and Here

Life in Afghanistan was simple in all ways. Relationships, needs, work, house chores, celebrations, endings and beginnings even sufferings and pains were all simple. I miss simple life. As a child, you could play outside your house with friends and neighbors's kids, go to school, and help around the house. You didn't have many unnecessary facilities like smartphones, facebook and instagram to distract and confuse you. You would go to school in uniform and held accountable by your teachers and parents the same way for your behavior and academic accomplishments. You would follow your education to college, be married (probably arranged), have kids, maybe have an easy government job, struggle to make ends meet and see your kids grow old. You wouldn't have many options regarding your work environment or accessories to facilitate your chores around the house. Your older siblings or your in laws would limit your choices and in return provide support, social, financial and etc. E
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Anger

One of basic human emotions, Anger, is a very strong one. It has been resurfacing in my moods lately more often that I like it. It is mainly anger toward my past, my ex, my choices and my current stagnant situation. Theoretically, I know what to do. However, theory is always miles away from practice. Practically, this anger is eating me, making me miserable and moody. Periodically, I go through resentment of myself, my mistakes and my actions. I obviously have not accepted myself for who I am and how I have lived my life so far. That scares me about my current choices and my future. No one can understand nor anyone can help.
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