It was a frigid December night, another ordinary winter night with wind howling through the trees and whistling under the windows, making the hairs on my skin stand up. Rain falling on the old thin rusted ceiling above my head felt like a distant sound of a horse galloping fast and furiously. And as the drops were getting bigger and heavier, I felt like the ceiling would not survive tonight. A long watercourse was formed here and there carrying old golden yellowish tree leaves swinging from one sidewalk to another. Window panes were bleached with fog and ornamented with small gleaming rain drops. I found myself dancing from one window to another and running after every lightning storm trying to catch it with my miniscule hand. It amazed me how such a frightening sound comes from an incredibly beautiful light. It was mesmerizing -all these colors in the sky- as if it were alive. And every time it screamed, I could see its veins circulating in the dark. Grandmother was in a deep sleep, and all what I could see of her was her head covered with a tight white scarf. She was snoring and slept with her mouth fully open. I came in to her and whispered: “Mima are you awake?” I touched her shoulder with my tiny finger, she did not respond to me. Indeed in a deep sleep she was! Grandmother was an old woman, she told me once that she is a 100-year-old, but I did not believe her. She was very amusing my grandma. She loved to tell jokes and gently chuckle by her own. Every time she laughed she covered her mouth in an involuntary systematic way, but still I could see her pirate silver tooth. She had wrinkles all over her old face, around her almond brown eyes, and around her dry lips. Four long lines were drawn on her flat forehead marked with green small flowers. A long line joined her chin and neck, where multiple snow flake-alike shapes were scattered on her chin. Her hands damaged and abused over the years had now an appearance of crocodile skin. Her long silky gray hair was in a milkmaid braid. She had long swollen fingers due to the days where she used to manually do the laundry of 12 family members. She used to scrub pieces of clothing in between her hands with a bar of soap, until the inside of her hands gets infected and starts bleeding. She never complained. She held her tears and suffered in silence holding her chilblains near her heart, similar to holding a newborn. She was very pretty my grandmother with all her wrinkles and her scars. I looked at her under my blanket, with only the moon light highlighting her face.
The next day, I woke up and did not find her next to me. I touched her sheets and they were perfectly cold. She must have left in the early morning to the market- similar to every Thursday. I washed my face with cold water and automatically flitted to the kitchen. She had already made me a nice breakfast; as a cup of tea and a warm “melwi”, which she carefully plastered with a thick coat of butter and honey, were situated on the kitchen stand. I quickly devoured my meal and placed myself in front of the window, while sitting on a mountain of pillows to observe her coming. I had to wait for an entire hour, till I could no longer feel my bottom, to see her approaching the house. She was wearing her old gray “souk djellaba” and a scarf on her head tied like a Sunam. I saw her struggling to carry the heavy traditional palm tree leaves tote bag fully filled with seasonable vegetables. I immediately run to the door waiting for her to open it; as she locked me in before going out. When she did, I jumped into her arms and gave her a warm hug and she kissed my cheek benevolently. I helped her carry the bag inside the house and closed the door behind me. She told me in a tired voice: “may Allah bless you, blessed one”. She sat on the sofa and I did the same. She looked more tired than I ever saw her before; her face looked exceedingly pale and her hands were shivering. She laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes, making frightening faltering moans. She broke my heart my grandma, even if she tried to smile it up, her fading smile betrayed her deceit and revealed her secret. I was extremely scared. I hated sickness and its odor. I loved my grandma. I could not tolerate the idea of losing her. I held her hand, in an attempt to make her feel better, but did not know that her last words were spoken and her last breath was taken.
