Every name a prayer
By Nabila Najwa | Sun, 05/25/2008 12:01 PM | Bookmark
How do you define an ordinary day? The clouds are tinged with shades of yellow and gray, and march slowly against the blue backdrop of the sky. Ordinary. The sea waves carry the smell of summer girls in sun-drenched sweat. Ordinary.
The gray-gold sand tap-tap-tap dances on coarse little feet beneath my bare calves. Ordinary.
My big brother Jack shares more than just a plate of chips with me, our eyes squinting against the blinding afternoon sun. We laugh, trade jokes and give each other hearty slaps. We act how brothers should. Like brothers. Unusual.
Mother comes our way, calling out to Jack, telling him to please not forget to bring the plate and cups back like last time.
The smile lines on her face quiver in place, as she stiffly instructs Jack to not stay out in the sun too long; Jack has a history of being prone to sun strokes. She manages to ignore the apologetic smile I offer her, and with her curls, still a radiant black with the help of henna, tumbling between the blades of her shoulders, she shuffles back towards the car.
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