Hello Friends,
How are you? I am exhausted from the sheer madness that is May with year-end events of School and extra-curricular activities for each child. It’s blissful exhaustion with tender feelings of my kids growing up and blooming into the milestone ages of 5, 7, and 10 come this Fall. Being mindful of the summer holidays approaching, I’m also mourning the distraction-free writing time I will no longer have for some time. This makes me aware that every stage and creative endeavor in life has a seasonal nature. This week’s story is about a woman I adore and look up to. She is a mirror of possibility for me and one who is in tune with the seasonal nature of life. This is part one of Mirror of Possibility.
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The day before our flight back to NY from our brief trip to Pakistan, I was grateful for the wondrous healing meetings and reconnections established during such a short time. This was the intention that I spoke out loud to my husband, Shakil, at the start of the trip when the plane took off from NY.
“This trip is for family and spending time with them. Everything else is a bonus. But next time I’d like to take a trip just for inspiration for my writing.”
Shakil suggested that I might find inspiration for writing while on this trip.
“Maybe but family first.” Saying it out loud meant it was written and this would be the main focus.
The intention had come to fruition and I was basking in the glow of time well spent. With a few hours to go before our flight back to NY, Shakil and I agreed to take my parents to meet Aunti Alia. The sensible thing would have been to drop them off and pack up all the lovely memories and gifts we had amassed from the past two weeks.
In the corner of my heart tucked away was a longing to meet my old neighbor, who came to live in the apartment downstairs when I was six years old. Aunti Alia along with her husband and two young kids had moved from a lavish life in the then war-torn Kuwait to a simpler and downsized life in Rawalpindi, Pakistan. A woman of great poise with her signature bob length hair, Aunti Alia was a white lily amongst thorny rueful rosed Aunties.
Aunti Alia was the one who got my Mom into reading short stories in Khwateen (Women’s) Digest and Pakeeza magazine. She was the one who named my youngest sister an apt name and often looked after her when my Mom needed a break. I spent many days in her apartment with her two boys watching Disney movies on her VCR. Meanwhile, Aunti Alia either read or painted quietly on the side watching over us.
She infused our life with beauty and calm yet I sensed an unsatisfied longing she had even when I was a single-digit-aged child.
Times were tough as her attention was being called to raising young children in a new less expansive environment than Kuwait and that too on the single salary of her husband’s. At times, loud banter escaped the walls of the first floor and made its way to our second-floor apartment. Like a bird, it perched on top of my windowsill while all I could do was bear witness that it was there. Meanwhile, Aunti Alia endured with her creating, reading, painting, and writing.
As Shakil parked in the open garage, I read the number of the house and a nameplate that ornately stated, “Manzil-e-Alia” (roughly translated as House/Destination Alia). Pointing it out to my Mom, we both squealed in excitement. This was the same Aunti Alia, who was my Mom’s confidante, a calm refuge in my childhood, and a mirror of possibility.
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Thank you for reading part I. Tune in next week for part II. How is the month of May treating you? As the seasons change, what season are you in when it comes to your creative endeavors or your current stage in life?
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If you liked this week's email, I'd love it if you could share it with a friend. Thank you for your continued love and support.
With love and gratitude,
Sana Fayyaz
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