Imagine an old widow trying to care for an adult male who communicates by hitting, punching, and breaking- who collapses at home one day and no ambulance is called because her adult son can't speak let alone use a phone. Read More »
The cubicles were still, the hum of the computers absent and the office nearly empty except for one woman. She was typing intently, turning only to check what she was writing against various charts strewn around her desk. Once she looked at her watch and then began to type with renewed energy. At 6:15 she finished with a flourish of fingers across the keys and then saved her document. She sighed and then gathered up the sheets of paper, sliding them neatly into a folder and then into her desk. Read More »
Half of this story is truth and half of this has not yet happened. Let me tell you the true part first. When the doorbell rang a few weeks ago I sent my 3-year-old daughter and autistic 5-year-old son running after their father to open it. We were expecting their ... Read More »
The hands on the clock said 1:45. She would come at 1:58, though her appointment was at two, and she would walk in and give a polite smile and say, quite simply, "Hello." And he would smile, genuinely happy, and stand and return the greeting, courteously ask how she was doing and then offer her a chair on the other side of his desk. Then he would sit in tense silence as she opened her bag and took out the grammar books and the lessons for the day. He would look only at her hands as she did because looking at her face would be too obvious. Read More »
The hands on the clock said 1:45. She would come at 1:58, though her appointment was at two, and she would walk in and give a polite smile and say, quite simply, "Hello." And he would smile, genuinely happy, and stand and return the greeting, courteously ask how she was doing and then offer her a chair on the other side of his desk. Then he would sit in tense silence as she opened her bag and took out the grammar books and the lessons for the day. He would look only at her hands as she did because looking at her face would be too obvious. Read More »
You’re standing in front of a tall Tower. You reach out and feel the foundation, it’s real enough. You rap against it with your knuckles and the solidness of it kind of hurts, send shivers into your hand. You pass your palm along the wall and it is smooth, flawless. There is no question at all about whether the Tower exists. You smile to yourself and lean against the building whistling a happy tune. Read More »
The hands on the clock said 1:45. She would come at 1:58, though her appointment was at two, and she would walk in and give a polite smile and say, quite simply, "Hello." And he would smile, genuinely happy, and stand and return the greeting, courteously ask how she was doing and then offer her a chair on the other side of his desk. Then he would sit in tense silence as she opened her bag and took out the grammar books and the lessons for the day. He would look only at her hands as she did because looking at her face would be too obvious. Read More »
The living room was dark except for a thin shaft of light that shone underneath the front door. A clock chimed, once, twice, thrice. The curtains on the window were drawn, and only the faintest glow from the outside world passed through them. In that darkness the father shifted his weight on the sofa. Read More »
Having grown up in the US and successfully passed through the public education system, I can tell you more about US military conflicts than the Seerah... it would seem that I belong to a generation of Western-educated Muslims who know more about ‘Nam than Badr, and while modern US History is valuable knowledge for anyone living there, it makes poor material for Muslim baby names. Read More »
I had been looking for my roommate Dawud for an hour and a half before I finally found him. I had checked the dorm, the campus library, the prayer hall and the cafeteria. If I had been smarter, I would've checked the bar first. Sister Hina had called my cell ... Read More »
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