If we are a family of wanderers,
then my grandmother is the gravitational force
that keeps us grounded
In her house, there are constants:
Tea is always accompanied by milk and sesame breadsticks
Water is kept chilled and rose-flavored
And there is never a shortage of talcum powder
She hasn't left the house in several years
Sometimes I forget the version of her that used to
And it scares me, because that wasn't too long ago
I remember
When she still ruled this street with an iron fist
from her balcony
Delegating tasks to anyone below who would listen
Throwing dried lemons at stray cats who dared cross our gate
(and missing)
And dangling her wicker basket from a 20 foot rope to pull up her deliveries with uncanny upper body strength
Samiha
(the forgiving one)
We call her Tita
loving
stubborn
and fiercely independent
She insisted on going to college and became the first woman in her family to do so
She studied philosophy and married at the late late age of 26
"All the girls wanted him"
"But he picked me"
she tells me triumphantly
Professor of Geography
I have never met him, Prof. Mohammed AlSayyad
he died before I was born, but I carry his name in mine
The original wanderer
The reason why the clock in Tita's home has three faces
One for each son in their timezone
I see Tita once a year
and in between we blow eachother kisses over FaceTime
She asks the same question every time I call
"When are you coming home?"
"Soon, Tita"
