I remember the days<\/p>\n\n\n\n
When I was young and full of life,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Looking forward to early mornings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I used to count them, count the days waiting patiently\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Asking my mother, in a soft, innocent voice,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Mom, when will Eid come?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And she’d smile and say,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Honey, be patient.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I’d ask her again\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The same question I asked every single Eid:<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Are we going to buy new clothes like so-and-so?”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She’d always say,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Yes, of course. You’ll have new clothes for Eid.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She never really kept that promise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But somehow,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I always felt like I had new clothes on every Eid.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Maybe that’s the thing about being a child\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
You believe, even when you’ve seen enough not to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Growing up, I didn’t have many things like the other kids did.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I was the kind of child who looked for warmth in every corner of the house\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Under beds, behind curtains, even inside quiet rooms\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not just for heat,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But for something softer, something safe.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And even though I laughed a lot,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Even though joy followed me around like a shadow,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I always felt like something was missing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Something you couldn’t name.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Something families are supposed to have,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But ours didn’t.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My father used to give us hope\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And promises.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But he never really kept those either.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Still, I believed him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Every time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Because that’s what children do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I remember going to bed early the night before Eid,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Just so I could wake up early in the morning, excited.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’d brush my teeth and wash my face,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then let my mom dress me in the same old shirt I always had\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But this time, it felt different.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was cleaner than usual.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’d put on my shoes\u2014same old ones\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But somehow, it felt like I was wearing something new.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then I’d stand by the window,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Watching the parade of other kids<\/p>\n\n\n\n
In new clothes and shiny little shoes,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Their pockets filled with candies and coins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I never felt jealous of them.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But they always made me feel like I wasn’t enough.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And still, something in my little brain<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Told me not to ask the question.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It would make Mom sad.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Not on this special day.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Before I went outside,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My mom stopped me and said,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“Wait, I’ve got a surprise for you this time.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
My eyes grew wide.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I’ve never felt this excited before.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She reached into her little closet,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And pulled out a brand new toy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It was a soldier\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Strong, with big arms and a proud stance.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
She knelt beside me and said,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
“One day, you’ll grow up to be just like him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Strong. Fearless.”<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I held onto it like it was a priceless artifact from a museum.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Like it wasn’t just a toy,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But a promise.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It made me feel special\u2014this time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Although the world was already cruel enough<\/p>\n\n\n\n
To children from families like mine,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Somehow, my innocence and naivety<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Were more than enough to face it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I didn’t see the cracks in people’s smiles,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Or the way their eyes lingered too long on what I didn’t have.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I thought kindness was everywhere\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And maybe, for a while, it was.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
That toy soldier became my invincible shield.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
For the first time, I felt complete.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I had what the other kids had.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And in that moment,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I believed I was their equal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
On that particular day, the warmth and joy were temporary\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But to me, they felt eternal.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I don’t even know when it all changed.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Time moves fast\u2014fast enough to steal things before you notice they’re gone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Like a switch.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Suddenly, everything disappears.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The joy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The careless laughs.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The little dances in the living room.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And all I have now is a soulless place, haunted by memories.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
By echoes of a child who had nothing,<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But somehow felt everything.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
And now as i sit on my bed, at the late hours of the night before Eid<\/p>\n\n\n\n
I look at the toy soldier\u2014still standing tall.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
A little worn out.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
One arm missing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
But somehow, it still looks as strong as it used to.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
It makes me wonder\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Was it all just a dream?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I remember the days When I was young and full of life, Looking forward to early mornings. I used to count them, count the days waiting patiently\u2014 Asking my mother, in a soft, innocent voice, “Mom, when will Eid come?” And she’d smile and say, “Honey, be patient.” Then I’d ask her again\u2014 The same<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":9,"featured_media":5228,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"video","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[6],"tags":[32,33,47,34],"class_list":["post-3049","post","type-post","status-publish","format-video","has-post-thumbnail","category-poetry","tag-featured","tag-picks","tag-poetry","tag-trending","post_format-post-format-video"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/goodcompanylit.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3049","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/goodcompanylit.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/goodcompanylit.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/goodcompanylit.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/9"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/goodcompanylit.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3049"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/goodcompanylit.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3049\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":5227,"href":"https:\/\/goodcompanylit.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3049\/revisions\/5227"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/goodcompanylit.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/5228"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/goodcompanylit.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3049"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/goodcompanylit.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3049"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/goodcompanylit.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3049"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}