14/02/2017
Based on a true story 5
|mohammad is a [verb]|.
Lead Writer : Shahad Al Robaian
Lead Photographer : Mahdi MalAllah.
I remember kissing his face so hard, over and over that must have hurt him. We spent a night in each other’s arms, under the dining table and on the cold tiles. I had intentionally exposed myself to his infection, in the hope that I catch chickenpox. The burden of disease was reduced when we had to share a room in isolation. We had our first unforgettable childhood experience, scratched blisters, applied soothing cream and unlike nagging kids, we laughed about it. I learned early on, that I loved my brother unconditionally.
My brother mohammed was 11 months younger, so when I went to middle school he was yet in elementary. Obsessed with food, his double packed lunchbox served only as a snack. One day he secretly confessed to me about his growling stomach, “I have considered dropping out of school because I cannot control this noise.” Moving forward, I risked hopping to the elementary school building to deliver my lunchbox to him. The moment his fat cheeks pressed against mine (as a form of saying thank you) the compromise of my meals would become of long duration.
To be continued…
P.S. “We don’t just do things to leave them in the past. We don’t just say things and expect them not to last.” |done is a [noun]|.