As part of a creative writing class I am taking, we were asked to write a story about our day. That was Monday September 12, 2016.
Eid Al-Adha 2016
Location: Omaha, Nebraska
I opened my eyes, glazed at the peach wall in front of me and thought: "It is Eid," one of the two main holidays in the Islamic calendar. I reached for my phone near my bed and started scrolling down the many messages I received from my family and friends back home. Pictures of children in new fancy clothing, feasts and many many smiles.
I woke my husband up to go to work. We put on nice clothes, and we snapped a picture to add to the family album of Eid day memories. The rest of the day was like any other day at work.
At 8 pm, I decided to visit the refugee family I am mentoring. While driving to their home, I thought to myself: Those poor kids are thousands of miles away from their home, their friends and everything they ever knew in their life. I passed by a dollar store and decided to stop and pick up something for them. In my mind, I was trying to do something for them but in the same time for myself. Seeing children's' smiles reminds me of home. I bought candy and coloring books, and I went to their house.
The weather was gray with heavy clouds covering the horizon. I knocked on the door, and the 11-year-old Sobhia yelled: "Auntie."
Eid Al-Adha 2016
Location: Omaha, Nebraska
I opened my eyes, glazed at the peach wall in front of me and thought: "It is Eid," one of the two main holidays in the Islamic calendar. I reached for my phone near my bed and started scrolling down the many messages I received from my family and friends back home. Pictures of children in new fancy clothing, feasts and many many smiles.
I woke my husband up to go to work. We put on nice clothes, and we snapped a picture to add to the family album of Eid day memories. The rest of the day was like any other day at work.
At 8 pm, I decided to visit the refugee family I am mentoring. While driving to their home, I thought to myself: Those poor kids are thousands of miles away from their home, their friends and everything they ever knew in their life. I passed by a dollar store and decided to stop and pick up something for them. In my mind, I was trying to do something for them but in the same time for myself. Seeing children's' smiles reminds me of home. I bought candy and coloring books, and I went to their house.
The weather was gray with heavy clouds covering the horizon. I knocked on the door, and the 11-year-old Sobhia yelled: "Auntie."