It all started when I first brought home proudly the June issue of VIVA Magazine with my first article published in it. I rushed with a smile to my mom, dropping the magazine from my hand on to her lap and telling her to check how her son writes.
Before that day, she had no idea that I enjoy writings. She had no idea that I had a blog. She didn’t even know what really goes in mind altough she used to always look at my face whenever I am home, trying to figure out my face expressions and read my mood to comfort herself that I am not upset with anything.
“So how did they know about your talent?” She asked.
“They read my blog, and then asked me to write something for them.” I answered waiting for her to ask, knowing that she had no idea what is a blog and how it works.
“What is your blog? Do you write? Since when? How can we check it?” 🙂
After a month or so, my mom, who had barely used the internet before, and has been entertaining the idea of trying it in the past year was sitting on the chair in my brothers’ room where the family computer lies, looking at its screen and yelling at me “Fadi come put me on that Observer thing”
I hesitated for a moment, trying to bring back to my memory the last couple of topics I posted about in that period of time, thanking God that I mostly post in English (knowing that she isn’t that good it) and hoping they are not something that would make her jump off the screen. Unfortunatly it was the worst introduction for my mom to my blog as her eyes met my post “The feminine face of God” that suggests a different view of God she has never thought of being the conservative Christian woman she grew to become (especially in the last couple of years).
A couple of days later, she dropped a brief comment about that post which showed her disapproval of what I said. It made me realize that she can understand what I write, even in English and that she as well gives me the freedom that she and my dad have given me since my childhood to express myself the way I want.
Since then I have been wondering what she read and what she didn’t of my posts. She barely comments, but always seems to check my blog whenever she has a chance to connect to the internet.
It didn’t stop at that. After she learnt about my interview with Yann Al haj at Monte Carlo Radio Station, and then when Paulo Coelho published a post of mine at his blog, she grew to carry more pride in my talent, and now she is spreading it, telling everyone in the family that I am a good writer!
Just yesterday the phone rang. I picked it up to find the sound of my aunt at the other side.
Hi 3amto, how are you?
Good Thank you. How are you doing?
I am good as well.
Fadi 3amto, what is your website?
(Me not expecting such question from 3amto) What site? You mean the one I write at?
Yes 3amto habibi it is.
Now I am wondering whether she read the post about changing my family name or not! :S
Hope she didn’t!
Anyway, in another event yesterday morning. My mother was having her coffee with my father’s cousin, and I heard her talking about my blog! Then when I appeared she said why don’t you write about your mother?!
Some of my friends are jealous from each other because I have previously mentioned some of them occaisonally in some posts while didn’t mention the others, or mentioned a good story about some while a bad story about others. Some explicitly asked me to write something about them! but I never expect my mother to request it.
I guess it is unfair to talk about my mother in this post. My first reaction to her request, and that was after I heard her complaining that she doesn’t sleep the night praying for God to help them (my parents) to get rid of their debt telling her “What do you want me to write? That my mother is insane? She doesn’t sleep the night out of worrying? while she always preaches the words of Jesus and him being the savor of us”!
She is one of the most loving compassionate person I have ever met (I know a lot feel the same about their mother), but as I stated of Arab parents in a previous post, she lives from us instead of with us. She had sacrificed a lot along with my father and worked hard in order to give us a decent living.
Watching her suffer in fear of what might happen because of some debts that they have been dealing with for more than 20 years now makes me sad. It does also make me helpless trying to comfort her that we can handle anything. Fear eats from our health more than what ever consequences we have to face.
Wish there is a way I can just pat on her back and remove all her worries.
In the meantime, maybe my blogging can at least bring a smile to her face and some pride that might move her worries for a moment or two.