I am meditative by nature, but in this climate, forget it. I perpetually overthink.
Still dark when I awoke, I slipped on my socks and avoided the two stairs that creak. Holding my breath, hoping not to disturb sleeping children. Quietly pacing through the familiar rhythm of making coffee. This morning I lit candles. There’s a comfort in everyday kitchen objects, and it’s in this space that I summon memories of the women in my life: my grandmothers, my mother, my aunts.
What remains?
So much of what has happened in the past year I hope will end. I want desperately to reconnect OFFline, to hold meaningful conversations and make eye contact when we do. Real, in-person eye contact. I want to hold my Ameh’s hands. I want my mother to hug me tight. I want to take walks with my father. I miss museums and dancing bachata and laying out trays of rice and beans with maduras and pollo guisado, laughing hard in the backyard with our people. I miss dressing up with my partner and having dinner alone, remembering us as a couple and our love pre-children.
Blink. A year passed.
What remains?
Dance parties in the living room and chasing squealing toddlers. Bike rides and pajamas until the afternoon. Passion projects. Seeking humanity and connection first, above all – in meetings and work calls and everything in between.
What remains?
Too hot bowls of cardamom cinnamon oatmeal: we have time to savor it. Perpetually spinning laundry machines. Backyard digging, worm finding, Legos underfoot. Big butcher paper paintings and the soft sounds of all four children’s nighttime breathing, snug in their beds. A prayer to keep them protected forever.
What remains?
Leaning into morning stillness. And deep, deep gratitude.
Slice of Life, Day 2
Again, the repetition gets me! You do it so smoothly, weaving repetition throughout the piece while tucking in the intimate details and the contrast of the past and present, bringing me into the moment and the experience.
You have inspired me to consider adding an audio feature to my blog. I adored getting to hear you read this! I felt the cadence of your "what remains" refrain, and your final lines about stillness and gratitude reminds us all that no matter how much we’ve lost, there are glimmers of light among the ashes. You are a gifted artist.
Nawal, I connected instantly with this Slice. I, too, rise a full hour-and-a-half before my husband (and did so, even when our children were at home) for that precious "alone time" to start the day on a calm note. I love the balance in this piece of what is missing and what remains during our pandemic trials. It sounds like the meditation gave you the peace of mind you sought, to focus on the positives of this collective experience.
Finally, I made it! And wow, what a wonderfully contemplative yet enlivened space to land in! Warm socks and candles but also squealing toddlers and Lego underfoot. These experiences co-exist, are part and parcel of the same whole – that’s what I gain here. There is sorrow and pause and loss but also charm and coziness and bonding. Thank you for sharing the larger picture through attention to detail.