Six years ago today, you were born. And with you, a mother was born.
I remember that early morning clearly. The moment when the doctor kept you in my arms. I was perplexed and nervous. And then one of the nurses took you away for getting cleaned up and you wouldn’t stop crying. Without thinking, I asked, why is he crying? The whole labour room laughed and the doctor told me, this is just the start.
It seems like eons ago.
Talha, we (your Father and I) love you to bits. I know you know that. But we can never say that enough. You are growing up so fast that I have to constantly remind myself to stop and just look at you. Though you have grown taller and leaner, your features are still the same to me. The way your eyes go wide when you are explaining something. The way you look at me dearly when you want something badly. The way you laugh. Oh, your hearty laugh! The way you say ‘chiklihole’. They way you would just randomly hug, kiss me and say ‘I like Umma’. Sigh!
You have been lucky to spend your birthdays in different cities. Masha Allah. I remember an incident from last year very well. We were in Barcelona and were going back to our hotel room after spending all day out. While walking, we came across a man who was sitting on the road side asking for money. We had walked past him when you stopped us and asked your father to give you a coin. You walked back and gave that coin to that poor man. He thanked you and then looked at us and waved in gratitude.
I felt overwhelmed with a myriad of emotions. I remember you running happily back to us. You had just turned five that day and you reminded us how important kindness was. You teach us something new every day. You never fail to amaze us with your love and affection for everyone around you.
You were so shy when you started kindergarten. But now you are slowly coming out of your shell and growing into a confident young man. A part of me cannot wait to see you all grown up and doing your own thing. And a part of me just wants to hold on to you and never let go.