Once Upon a Stubborn Family

By the time you build your own family. You look back and remember how your own family raised you.

You start counting the good manners they taught you, the not so good ones too.

How your parents were understanding and how they were ruling your life according to ancient rules.

Making you believe I'm lucky to be part of something that no longer exists but only in our heads.

It frustrates me a lot. When you know your future is established long before you are born, just because you are from such a certain family. Marrying the family member who coincidentally you were born 2 days apart from, they make you believe it's a match made in heaven, a romantic story from birth!

or you are forced to study a major in university because they think it will make them look good to say: my son is a doctor, a pilot, or an engineer. We all know by know, doctors are the least paid in the industry compared to the cool business majored.

If you want to be a doctor, be a doctor, for you. Not for anyone else.

If you want to be married to that person. Be married for your own happiness, not anyone else. You will live that life not them.

I'm not asking for a rebel. I'm asking for understanding the older generation's differences and the clash it happens when their children grow up in different times.

My dear mommy always repeats:

عن علي بن أبي طالب :(( لاتقسروا اولادكم على ادابكم فانهم مخلقون لزمان غير زمانكم ))

"It's the Oldest you are & the Youngest you'll ever be"

It's that year of 1999.  The cultural foundation was the "It" place for school trips.  Those spacious hallways, we used to slide our school shoes on that soft and colorful granite grounds, fountains splashing on the right and lots of libraries' with its glass doors peaking at us on the left.

Everything always felt giant to me back then, maybe because I was a tiny little kid.

I remember at one of our school trips, we were waiting for our bus, when a fancy Mercedes pulled over in front of us. Two girls appeared out of the car, I saw them being very tall, wearing black abayas and high heels; things that I've yet to be able to wear.

I remember saying to myself: that's how I'm going to look when I'm 25 years old.  Knowing that, 25 seemed like a very long time to come.

Today. I'm 25 years old, that age I was eager to live came as easily as all the years before it. I still look the same.

It was all in our imagination to feel like grownups, truth it, we change slightly.

Except, this year will always be very special. It's the year I felt those kicks, As I type this post, I trace the movements with my eyes and wonder, is it true I will experience a kind of love, only a Mother can feel?

Our little peanut will soon smother our life with Jam and Cream.

And that when I felt, I get to live my childhood all over again. And grow old gracefully too.