I want a thunderstorm. I want to be in my Topeka backyard looking at ominous clouds, ignoring my mother’s calls to come inside.
At the NIH, I learned the best places to watch a storm roll in, the prayer room was one of them. Hadi never appreciated storms as much as me but the kid did love to dance in the rain. I recently was on a bereavement panel with some of Hadi’s nurses at Children’s. Can we say ugly tears? We spent most of our time at NIH but he passed at Children’s. PICU nurses are incredible human beings, well, all nurses.
Ramadan is coming up. Another covid Ramadan. 2018 Ramadan was at the NIH, 2019 was at the house when it was the four of us and before the fire. 2020 at the apartment. 2021 will be at my home. I need to make sure I have jam for suhoor and fudge for iftar. That’s what I survived on at the NIH and to be honest, it was pretty awesome. You know what else is awesome? My inflatable mosque. Yes, I started preparing for Ramadan and was going to map out my Quran strategy....nope, instead I bought an inflatable mosque. So, vaccinations and a glimmer of a return to normalcy. Yeah, back to people having “bad days” and teenagers killing an UberEats driver. This is when Hadi would say...Mommy, prayer.
Next week is Spring Break and Zakaria is with his
father. Who hoo....partay at the Sufi house. And by partying, I mean gardening and making lavender scones. Just hope there is a decent storm at some point.