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wailing child calls to their mother, tears clouding their eyes and beckons her towards them for relief. The mother runs to her child, searching for their source of pain. Did they scrape their knee? Did they cut their hand? Did they hit their head? “Mama,” the child whispers through sniffles, “I broke the plate.” The mother looks off to the side where her late mother’s navy lined, gilded floral plate lays shattered on the hardwood floor. The polished lines of the intricately gilded petals have become indistinguishable. She kept very few belongings of her own mother, and she frequently told her children to be careful while handling them. Holding in tears, she looks back to her child and raises her hand to their face. She cradles their cheek, wiping away the warm tears with her thumb. “Are you hurt?” she asks despite her great pain. She misses her mother who taught her to remain patient in moments such as these. “No,” her child says, “I’m sorry, Mama.” She smiles and gently hugs her child. “It’s okay, habibi. Let’s try to be careful next time. Don’t go over there until I clean it up.” 24 | THE MUSLIM VOICE | NOVEMBER 2023
Her child, though young, will continue to remember their mother’s kindness and patience with every hardship and growing pain. They will grow and embody that kindness in moments when their own mother is weak and unwell. They will remember to be patient with her as she slowly forgoes this life, leaving her children to outlive her, grieve her, and remember her. We often part this world just as we entered it—weak, feeble, and in need of assistance. A child is pure, with a clean heart and a clean mind. Their skin, as smooth as talc or a kitten’s fur, with eyes filled with love and wonder. Children are our legacy. They outlive us. They remember us. They tell our stories. There is no greater joy than when a child jumps on top of us forcing a grunt to escape our mouths. They climb to put their heads on our shoulders, draping their arms around us. Cheek to cheek, their skin is soft—delicate almost. They grow quickly and form complex emotions, understand adult wit, and crack jokes of their own. There is no greater beauty than watching their hair grow in length, or their height becoming just short of ours.
