friendly space
the roots
Amal El Minshawi
@amalalmenshawi@amalalmenshawi
December 10, 2021
We grow and the lute becomes stronger and stronger, so we release their hands to life, bearing their wishes and advice, and the harvest of years engraved inside us as discipline, education, and adherence to religion and morals.
Their eyes and hearts await us, even if the road extends, and their values, which they planted in us, protect us with roots that extend, branch, and cling to the ground whenever the steps widen or the steps become lost.
They accompany us with their calls to defend us and valiantly defend the ancient warrior in difficult times, and their images and the confidence given before us leap to confront with us trifles, correct errors and follies, and gently return us to the path of the road.
We lean on them in adversity, and take refuge in the comfort of their chests when our chests are narrow and grieved, and we expose our weakness in front of them, without embarrassment or anticipating regret.
We miss their bread, their coffee and their warmth, and we unconsciously repeat their phrases and proverbs.
With the length of the journey, many events and situations fall, and our memories remain in their custody the most beautiful and most precious to our souls, the closest to our memory and the most difficult to forget.
We are haunted by the smell of their food, their perfume, and stuck in our souls, their recipes, the shape of their tables, the seasons of their feasts, and the joy of receiving them.
Our features transform with time to resemble them, their customs and the rituals of their days, so we do not know whether we are an extension of them or identical images of them.
We love those who love them, we pray for them, we wipe with their consent, and we continue to walk without fear or anxiety, even if they are absent for a long time.
Eternity does its actions with them, so their strength weakens and time draws its lines relentlessly or slows down on their foreheads, so our hearts ache and squeeze love, tenderness and pity.
With time, we become parents to them, and we exchange many roles with them, but our sense of safety and reassurance remains the property of them alone and not others.
They get sick, so our hearts are broken with panic and fear for them.
They leave, and we feel the first real defeat in our journey, and things we do not know are broken in us, and our lives lose its pure joy, and we are greatly terrified by the fact of eternal absence, and that we are alone.
After them, we see a different form of the people and things around us, and the passion subsides and the turnout declines, as if life is preparing us for the same great fateful role.
Our roots;
Our roots, those hands that engrave morals in our minds, write scores of love for good in our hearts, and teach us by deed and saying that what benefits people remains in the earth, and what is below it is froth that goes away.
Our roots, those tender hearts that embrace the world with love, understanding and acceptance of excuses if we are absent or busy with days, that origin that preserves our identity and strengthens our arms and protects us no matter how intense the temptation, with them we are strengthened, and with them the goodness and peace of life is assured.
• Our roots, our fathers, mothers, aunts and uncles, and our close family circle, these are the faces that taught us the art of living.
@The_Game_Official
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@The_Game_Official