Today, an hour ago, as I was reading by the window, I glanced at the blue sky. Its beautiful blue invites everyone to gaze into it and forget everything else.
Beautiful, I whispered, and my eyes moved back to my reading. But then, the sun shone into them. I tried to evade its brightness, but couldn’t. It was warm, and we had missed it over the last few days.
So I remained where I was, enjoying its warmth while continuing to read.
Then, all of a sudden, I heard rain, beating rain, big raindrops falling somewhere.
I glanced out the window; no rain. But, I did hear rain.
I moved to another window, and just then it was pouring, generously pouring.
The sun was shining and smiling, happy to watch the rain, just like me.
Oh my… the poor people were running along the streets. It’s been a bit chilly here, but some still think it’s not time for coats. They were running, trying to find any shelter. The trees gave them another cold shower, and the sun began playing her favourite game of hide and seek.
And I smiled.
Then the rain stopped, and the sun was still playing.
Oh my… I remembered the laundry. It wasn’t outdoors, but I wondered whether to take it out or not risk it for my friend still playing hide and seek.
Better not.
But I hate dryers.
I think I’ll give it a try.
That’s how rain and sun can change your day—from weather to whether.
September is a dear, special visitor who brings all sorts of weather in a beautiful gift box. And come rain or shine, its visit is always welcome, always endearing.
Today, for example, is windy, sunny, and a bit chilly, with refreshing drizzles expected later on. But no one huffs or puffs. No one is lazy. No one hides. Why? Because it’s September, bringing gentle vibes at the dawn of autumn.
Do you know what the big dilemma in September is?
It’s something we set aside during summer and bring out in winter!
Can you guess?
I think you got it right.
It’s the coat.
Shall I put it on? No, it’s warm. Yes, it’s grey and humid. No need, I’ll be back before it starts pouring. But it’s already pouring. This coat is useless. This one is too heavy. Grab it. Leave it. Why did I take it? I should have taken it.
This becomes a significant part of my family daily conversation before stepping out of the house throughout September.
But, doesn’t it add a bit of change and fun?
At least, you have the option and the full responsibility for all its consequences.
Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.
Back then in Egypt, many years ago, when I was just a child, my family used to take two different holidays during the summer. Of course, none of them were abroad; that wasn’t even in my dreams.
The first trip was always to visit my grandparents and relatives in one of the most beautiful cities in Upper Egypt. The train journey took about six long hours. By long, I mean really long, not like nowadays, when time slips through our fingers like water. Still, I enjoyed every bit of it.
Our journey didn’t end with those six hours for my grandparents were living in a small village about a two- hour drive from the city. Sometimes we stayed in the city for a few days to visit relatives, but then we’d head straight to that small, simple village where my grandparents waited for us in their big, old house. We usually stayed there for around two months, but of course, after the first week, my father would take the train back to Cairo for he couldn’t be off work for that long .
Our second long trip was always to one of the quietest and furthest seaside cities on the western coast of Egypt. We always headed there around the first of September, when the weather used to cool down a bit at that time of the year. We stayed for only one week, since school started by the middle of the month.
We travelled there by coach and always with a group of family friends from Cairo. The journey was just as long as our train ride to the south. Excited about the sea waves, colourful shells, and building sand castles, I always looked forward to this holiday, and I never minded the distance.
Strange how, many years later, when my husband and I took our first flight to England, we thought we’d be too far from home. But in the end, that journey turned out to be actually the closest of all.
Things depend on how you feel about a place. The furthest can be the nearest. The furthest can be the most exciting, the most unexpected. And sometimes, the furthest can be home too.
It seemed like a breezy afternoon with mild sunshine, a few fluffy clouds floating in the blue sky, and a gentle wind playing with the trees. Isn’t that the perfect time for a nice walk? That was my suggestion, which my husband approved, and my thirteen-year-old daughter surrendered to with a long sigh.
In a few minutes, we were walking down a long hill, for that was the plan to walk all the way to the end and then climb back up to our house. I was hoping I could bribe my family to stretch the walk a bit further, but I changed my mind, and that wasn’t because it started raining.
A few minutes after we stepped out onto the long road, the sun turned blazing, the clouds evaporated, and the wind changed direction as if heading towards a different destination.
As we walked, we realised that we were almost the only ones on the road at that hour. Oh my… even the birds had disappeared. The number of cars and buses passing by was countable. We couldn’t help but laugh until it struck us that it was time to climb back up the same long road. That’s when the real challenge began.
The merciless sun turned straight into our faces as if blaming us for choosing the wrong time for a walk. And one can’t easily evade the English sun. So we kept walking: my daughter dreamed of ice cream, my husband of a long nap, and I of sunceam as my face was already burning.
Halfway along the walk, we discovered a simple joy as some dry tree leaves joined us on the road. Their crunch beneath our shoes lifted my daughter’s mood, and she began searching for the driest leaves with the crunchiest sound. I found the idea both fun and soothing, so I joined her. Surprisingly, we attracted the attention of some hibernating neighbours who stepped out, curious to see what was happening.
Finally, we were home. I was pleased we had made it, my husband was already thinking about a second round later on, and my daughter felt sorry for my sunburn.
With hope and peace,
Nahla
P.S.
It seems the rain heard of our dilemma and decided to grace us in abundance!
He was standing just like that— perched on the back of the rusty bench while my daughter and I were walking in the park. She saw him first and whispered to me, “Look, Mama, look at that robin.”
“Oh, so cute,” I whispered back, and we both froze on the spot— wondering whether to move closer or walk away.
We quietly moved closer, and—surprisingly— the noble prince remained on his throne. Whether it was humility or pride— he stayed silent, his tiny eyes seemed to watch us.
How I wished he would sing— something, anything. But he seemed to have no song. Still, we couldn’t blame him; it was such a grey, humid, and hot day.
At least we were honoured to capture a photo of the park’s noble prince.
I once heard that laugher can relieve panic attacks. You may wonder, as I do, how someone in a panic attack could think of anything funny. Some say a person can force themselves to laugh. Perhaps this advice is based on scientific studies, or maybe it’s just an old folk remedy.
But, based on my own humble experience, I can also say that many cases of panic attacks end up being hilarious incidents.
One day before last Christmas, things went a bit spooky—just like a halloween night. December is known for its freezing weather, short days, and long nights—not to mention its violent storms. That evening, my daughter was invited to her friend’s birthday party at some restaurant in town.
Darkness fell early that evening, and strong wind began to pick up. My plan was to take the bus, stop by my husband’s workplace, and then we go together to pick up my daughter.
The moment I stepped onto the bus and scanned my ticket, I felt as if I were in the wrong time or on the wrong bus. The bus was almost full, but not of the usual passengers. Instead, it was packed with people who looked as though they were going to a party. Men and women with different ages were dressed in shiny, glittering outfits.
Slowly, I made my way to the nearest available seat and sat next to a woman who was deep in slumber. I checked the time and it was just past five pm, and I was sure I was on the right bus.
As the bus pulled away, the party started—not with singing or dancing but with loud, chaotic conversations. It was as if they were on separate buses, shouting across the road. They were planning and arguing what food or drinks to order. It was such a noisy and amusing gathering that I didn’t know whether to frown or smile.
We arrived early in town and decided to have a hot drink until it was time to pick up my daughter. The wind pushed and pulled at us as we hurried downhill toward the nearest café. The streets were almost empty— no one was around. If it wasn’t for the Christmas lights, the town would have looked like a haunted place.
We arrived home safe and sound, but not without a few surprises. My husband hurried to the nearest convenience store to buy a few things as weather warnings announced severe conditions.
For the first time since our move, the wooden front gate was locked. (It’s the type with a metal latch that you push up to open or down to lock.) That night, it was fully down and stuck. It became so dark as if it was midnight rather than just past seven pm.
I tried to unlock the gate, but my attemps didn’t work. When I asked my daughter to jump over to try from the inside, she looked shocked as if I had asked her to climb a tree. I tried and tried until the metal moved up— not completely, but enough to be pushed open.
My daughter hurried upstairs to her room to charge her phone while I heated our dinner. Then, all of a sudden, a loud alarming sound echoed all over the house. I ran back and forth, checking everything, trying to find where this sound came from. Then, my daughter started screaming from upstairs, and I ran up to her room.
‘Mama, it’s my phone. It’s making a horrible noise and it’s so hot.’ My daughter was shaking, her face pale as a white sheet. ‘Turn it off,’ I shouted, snatching it from her hands. It burned in my hand, but the alarming sound had stopped.
We both ran downstairs and left the phone on the kitchen counter, and watching it as if it might explode. The only thought popping into my mind was to throw it away into the garden. Just before taking this action, my phone rang. One of my sons was calling, and I poured out everything that had happened, except my idea to throw the phone away.
‘Are you sure the sound was coming from the phone?’ My son asked. ‘Yes,’ my daughter and I answered at the same time. ‘Was there anything else strange about it? ‘Yes, the screen turned all yellow with a warning message.’ My daughter explained.
My son burst out laughing, just as my husband walked in. ‘Did you get the storm warning message?’ he asked
‘And you were going to throw my phone, Mama,’ my daughter said, the colour returning to her face. ‘And you didn’t even try to read the message!’ I said, and breathed in relief
My daughter and I fell onto the nearest sofa, shaking with laughter, tears rolling down our faces.
What a day! But see? Sometimes, to panic is also to laugh.
One day, while mowing the long grass in my garden, the lawnmower began a weird noise, and then smoke come out of it. I ran to unplug it. Everything was under control with no serious damage caused.
The following day (or week) I seized the opportunity that my husband was working from home and asked him to go with me to buy a new one. Since, the store was not far from home, he agreed.
It was a hot summar day, and my husband, clutching the heavy box, was drenched in sweat.
‘That’s why one shouldn’t work from home,’ my husband grumbled. ‘That’s why one should work from home every now and then,’ I said, stifling a laugh.
We arrived home safe and sound. My husband left the box in the kitchen and ran upstairs. ‘Aren’t you going to help me fix it?’ I called after him. ‘I’ve got a meeting, but give me a shout if you need any.’
I opened the box, took everything out, and gathered all the emply packaging. For a moment, I thought whether to throw away the cardboard, but decided against it. I grabbed the manual which I always found useless. I tried my best to put things together, but that mower, though small, was more complicated to put together. After a dozen attempts, I managed to fix the handle, but there was some wires I had no idea where to place. So, I shouted for help and waited for my husband, who promised to come in as soon as possible. In the meanwhile, I dismantled all the pieces I had put together and made me a nice cup of tea.
‘Oh, you haven’t started anything.’ My husband wondered, and I knew he wished half the job was alreafy done. ‘I did, but things didn’t work. So, it’s your turn to fix it.’ ‘At least you could have made me a cup of tea like yours.’ ‘I will, but only after you fix it.’I said with a smile.
My husband crouched on the floor, trying to put things together, asking me loads of questions as if I was the one who had invented the machine.
”I’ll try later.’ He gave up. ‘But it won’t get fixed. Something is wrong. Can you just take it back to the store and ask them to assemble it.’
Grumbling and murmuring under his breath, my husband asked about the box and the receipt. I whispered a thankful prayer that I hadn’t torn and bin them.
An hour passed, and my husband neither came home nor called. I finally called him.
‘Why is it taking so long?’ ‘They can’t fix it. They called an expert to check it, but he couldn’t either. I got a refund.’ My husband said, sounded both happy and relieved.
‘So, you’re coming home.’ ‘No, I’m going to work.’
With hope and peace,
Nahla
P.S. I know the photo is not related to the topic of my post, but l love nature. Isn’t it better than a lawnmower?
It started off so well, with warm, sunny days, and beautiful clear nights. We went on a short break to Edinburgh. Everything was filled with exciting holiday vibes. My sons joined us as well, which made things more fun and enjoyable
We all love walking so we set our Google Maps and began exploring the beautiful, old city. It wasn’t our first visit to Edinburgh. Actually we had lived in Scotland for five years and we used to visit Edinburgh during the holidays. My sons couldn’t remember anything about it, and of course, neither could my daughter. They were like exploring the charming city for the very first time.
During the day, we wandered through the old town roads and climbed its unique, staircased alleys. I really liked these alleys for they looked like an old storybook. In the evening, we went out for dinner, but things were not as simple and smooth as they were during the day. Without a booking, you aren’t guaranteed a table. But, we managed to explore and find some family ‐ friendly spots. Then, back to the hotel, we stayed up late together, sharing funny stories and snacking until our eyelids grew heavy with sleep. My sons wished us a good night before heading off to their room.
So far, the holiday had been great.
On the second day, my middle son had a train booked for late afternoon as he couldn’t take extra days off work. We made a plan to be back to the hotel after lunchtime so he could have enough time to be get his train on time. This time, my husband didn’t join us, as some of his friends had learned that he was in Edinburgh and wanted to catch up with him.
Once again, the day had been great – busy and full of fun. It wasn’t until we were halfway back to the hotel that my middle son and I began to argue. What we were talking about was not that serious, but it was my reaction that made things worse.
I didn’t know whether it was the heat getting to me, or too much walking, or just one of the mothers’ flaws. My daughter grew emotional, feeling like she was losing all the fun of the day. My eldest son wanted to step in but I glanced at him to not interfere.
A few minutes away from the hotel, we came across a bench sheltered by a beautiful, flowery tree. Silent, the four of us sat there. ‘I’m still hungry. I’m going to get a sandwich,’ my eldest said before leaving us.
‘Now, what’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with what I was saying?’ My middle son began talking, explaing, and arguing. Oh, my heart – I could feel how angry and disappointed he was. I listened patiently and waited until he was finished. Then, I explained my point calmly. He looked convinced, though he didn’t admit it. But, at least, in some way, we both understood that we meant well.
Back to the hotel, he grabbed his bag and came to my room. We chatted about other things until it was time to head to the train station. We hugged, and forgot all about it.
The next day, we headed to the train station. There was some delays, and the weather changed, becoming colder and windy. Once we got on the second train, my daughter received a message from her friend that upset her, but my eldest son took care of that issue. Exhaused, I closed my eyes just to relax, didn’t expect I would fell sleep. But, I did though I usually don’t fell asleep on train journeys, and my neck still hurting until today.
As the train was finally approaching our station, we got our bags and moved towards the door. There was a man waiting alongside us, coughing and sneezing, and looked awfully unwell. I couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t remain in his seat until the train came to a stop.
The following day, I woke up with slight cold symptoms. The day after, it became much worse with fever and a cough. Today it’s feeling okay.
That’s not all about this Easter holiday – perhaps I will share more soon.
Describe a positive thing a family member has done for you.
I smiled when I read today’s prompt. Do you know why? Because I remembered why I didn’t respond to it, and today, I decided to share my thoughts.
But, first, let me explain why I didn’t answer this prompt last year. That’s simply because I believe your answers would be the same as mine.
Today I just thought of the concept of family as a blood – related entity. By the way, this means I didn’t exactly alter the question but read it differently.
So, within this context, the positive thing I have been learning is that family is family. You can’t trade them, and you can’t change them either. You can’t just wake up one day and decide to erase them from your life no matter what hurt or disappointment they may cause you. You can do that with strangers, because nothing ties you together. But, you can’t do the same with your parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and grandparents.’They are family,’ you will say every time you feel you’ve had enough, right?
Out of this positive blood-tie bond, another positive strategy is born that can help you avoid non-essential problems: It is the art of ‘Mind Your Own Business.’ According to this strategy, you don ‘t ask too much, you don’t play the peacemaker when you are not involved in the scene, and you don’t volunteer to give advice or suggestions if you were forced into the scene. In the end, family tends to overlook what others say, but not yours especially if they didn’t approve your participation because, simply, you’re family too.
Changes in your eyesight do not really imply medical problems. Sometimes, they can be affected by how you feel and think.
A few years ago, my daughter didn’t feel happy in her class because her best friend left the school ‐ just like that, without even a short notice. There were other friends, but she couldn’t feel the same happiness as if something was missing everyday at school. Then, one day, as we were walking back home after school, she told me she couldn’t see the board well. I let a few days pass while observing her reading and writing at home. All seemed fine. Yet, she insisted that she couldn’t see well at school.
I arranged an appointment at the optician’s, and to my surprise, he prescribed glasses for my daughter. Honestly, I didn’t trust his diagnosis. He seemed miserable himself, and imapteint too. I could feel my daughter’s nervousness during the eye test. But, sometimes, you can’t just disagree with the doctor with a reference based on your intuition.
My daughter chose the frame and colour of her glasses, feeling so excited about her new accessory. The following day, she took them to school, and put them on once or twice. The day after, she left them at home. By the third day she had forgotten all about them.
“I see better without them, Mama,” she said and hid them in her desk drawer. On the following year, at her annual eye test check, the optician was such a cheerful person with a genuine smile. My daughter felt relaxed during the examination, and her eyesight was perfect.
“Have you been wearing your glasses regularly,” the optician asked. ‘No,” my daughter quietly replied, feeling a bit guilty. “Well, it doesn’t happen often, but you don’t need glasses anymore,” the optician gave the news as if announcing the marvellous success of a hardworking student.
“Really,’ my daughter gasped, her face beamed with a beautiful smile.
I smiled too, wondering whether it’s true that mothers have a sixth sense -that intuition commonly known as gut feelings.
Whether you’re a child or a grown-up, your eyesight can be affected by what’s hidden deep within your heart and mind. Some might lose their eyesight because of grief, yet the same ones might also regain it through the power of joy. There are no hopless cases, but hope for every case. It’s the cause of the problem that might need treatment, more than the problem itself.
Don’t they say that a healthy diet and a walk outdoor in the open, wide beauty of nature can improve eyesight? I couldn’t agree more, becuase they actually can change your mood, brighten your day, and calm your spirit. This is a simple recipe that might help you take off your glasses every now and then.
