All grow’d up

A little blurb I only discovered tonight:

Ladies talking statue in Montreal

December 26, 2014.

Here in Old Montréal visiting my God parents. Next to my legit parents, these folks are ones that have known me for almost as long – potentially minutes after my birth. We don’t get to see each other very often, but when we do, it’s a whirlwind of questions and conversations over dates from Medina and poured drinks.

It’s late at night and I think to myself with eyes half closed, we should do this more often: my brothers and I slipping into a car to head east for a visit. This trip is special, because, well, because as siblings of three, we’ve never travelled together without our parents, and because we’ve never visited with Uncle Aly and Auntie Taimi as our adult selves.

We stopped outside of Toronto for a 20-pack of McNuggets, when the woman taking our order exclaims, “You two must be twins?!” (My brothers are 5-years apart, and while they look like they share genes from the same pool, I wouldn’t say they’re twins – unless the woman was thinking of the fraternal variety, because then I’ll give her that. Most likely she wasn’t.) Not even a minute later a woman sidles up to me and says, “You must be the rose between two thorns.” Yes, I must. She thought it was so incredible that the three of us were travelling together (apparently it’s very obvious we are related) that it gave her hope for her children. Her eldest being 18 and 6’10 no less. She said her boys fought all the time and was thrilled that there could be a future for her with children that got along and liked each other. I quipped, “This was 15-years in the making.” Implying that one shouldn’t be fooled by appearances. Jason then said, “Our clothes hide the bruises.”

I feel at home here. It’s true that we don’t really know each other, but being here and reminiscing and talking about our days in KSA again remind me, and us, that our time there was special. Taimi makes note that she learned quickly when she moved back (after living there for close to 25 years), that it wasn’t something you could readily share with people, they wouldn’t understand just what it meant to have lived abroad for so long and to have lived in the Middle East. It was nice to understand each other on this topic and bond over our similar experiences and feelings when confronted with the move back home to Canada.

Our little mini vacation á Montréal was a success, and I hope it happens more frequently.

Merci beaucoup to our beautiful and loving hosts.

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