She was nineteen years and eleven months old. He just turned thirty. She was a perfect daughter who kept the house clean, studied well and took care of her younger siblings. By that time, she grew out of her tree-climbing and swimming days, she grew out of her kiddish clothes and started dressing like a girl. She grew out of the obliviousness of the people around her and started looking into her faith. The first day that she put on that big shawl and went to college was the day her friends thought she took that other huge step. But, that was just the beginning of growing up - It wasn't 'that other huge step'. At that time, she was trying to find out what the truth is and stick by it. She did not care about what other people said or did. She did not care about what people thought of her. She was, and has always been, a strong woman.
When I was little, I used to think she is the prettiest lady alive. I longed to be like her when I grew up. In my teen years, I thought she was pretty, but I thought there were other pretty people too. Now, when I think about it, I think I was right when I was five. She truly is the prettiest lady I know. She is a beautiful, beautiful person.
He did not come from a family as closely knit as hers. His father died when he was about ten, and pretty soon, he learned to live independently. He left his family and went to the city to study. He started to form the million memories that one day he would reiterate to his children. His eyes must've swam with dreams when he started studying in the best university in his country.
He told an older friend of his that he was looking for a girl to settle down with. His friend's wife knew her quite well. Then, somehow, it just happened. They got married. She was nearly twenty and he just stepped into the thirties. A year later, they had their first child. Another year and a half later, a girl was born. Then after four and a half years, their last child came to them.
They suit each other quite well. She is strong, he is soft-hearted. She is a perfectionist, he is a messy scientist. She lives in the reality, he's a dreamer. And if not for them, I would have never been me. Many moments that I have had with them make me cringe. I know I haven't been a very good little girl, or even a good older girl. And at twenty, I know, I am no where near measuring up to who she was when she was my age. I know I fail to show my love, all the time. Yet, I love her. I love her. I love her. I love him.
They have been together for twenty-seven years. It must take an enormous amount of patience, a huge heart and lots of wisdom to build a beautiful home and keep it together for so long. I truly admire my parents. I don't think they know it though (I have probably never showed it through my actions). I was thinking about what sort of a gift I could give them. What do you give to someone who done so much for you? Who loves you more than their own selves? Who forgives you no matter what you have done?
They have another daughter and a son now, who came into their home from different homes. Their daughter-in-law sent them a beautiful message, because she could not be with them on this day. Their son-in-law (and probably his wife) gave them a plant in a pot for their nearly-new house, because that's one of their shared hobby - gardening. And me, even though I have been with them much longer than the two newer members of this family, I don't know what to get them.
I don't think they will ever come across this. But, anyway, I love my parents from the deepest corners of my heart. I wish I could show it to them. I hope Allah listens to every prayer that I have ever prayed for them. I hope I stop disappointed them over and over again. I wish I could be the responsible daughter that they long for. I hope, every person that meets them, sees them for the beautiful people that they are.
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