A Letter to Ramadan
I can’t believe it’s that time again. It seems we just parted yesterday.
This year, I want to be able to host you in my home, better than any guest I could ever host. When you leave, I want to miss you.
Some years, your visit sparks in me a light that cannot be dimmed. I count the days to your arrival and ready your things. The day you arrive, we stay up all night. I sit with you and we read together. I stay up with you until the sunrise and sleep with a sated mind. There is a magic to the nights, a fervour in my prayer and tears on my mat. As we celebrate Eid, the day that marks your leaving, I hold you tight in my grasp, unwilling to see you leave. And I would pray, that I could live another year to be with you again.
Other years, it seems that I am forever catching up to you. I know I should be paying more attention to you. I know I should sit with you, read with you, talk to you but I let the dust of the world get in the way. Hunger distracts me and tiredness keeps my hands limp. And at the end of the month, you stand at my doorstep with your bags packed and your gifts left unopened, and I wish I had taken better care of you.
So this year, dear Ramadan, brings your gifts, your hefty challenges. Come into my home and take a seat. Let’s read, let’s talk.
Dear Ramadan, I pray that this year, when you leave, I'll miss you more than ever.