I miss the sunlight sneaking in through the curtained bedroom window to wake me up. Instead when I open my drowsy lids to the sound of
alarm from the cell phone, it feels like the sun hasn’t risen—it’s still dark and
cold outside. The kind of cold that makes me long to go back to few more hours of
fitful slumber. The house is silent when I stumble downstairs, sleepyhead and
disoriented, into the kitchen and switch on the kettle to brew some tea—my pep pill. Once
I’m done with a mug of hot tea, I’m almost ready to take on the challenges of
the day. One by one. Patiently.
Winter. A season of holidays, joy and traditions.
The beginning to an end. The rain has swept us right into the company of
winter. Hot humid days of summer are now a thing of the past, with no regrets. I
love winter. Especially the mild winter months in Doha. When I take time to
reflect on winter, I admit, I don’t have the best memories attached to it. At
least not in the past three years. Three Christmases back I was injured in an
accident that left me partially disabled for a couple of weeks. Yes, it was
Christmas day. And I spent the evening in the ambulance, in and out of consciousness, and a painful night at the hospital bed in the emergency. A year later, I resigned from my job. Again, in December. My New
Years came and went quietly, both times, lacking fanfare. And my days drifted
into months just as delicately. Those are my most vivid recollections of
winter. How can I forget such life changing events? I embrace each New Year
with hopes of forgetting the past and finding a future. Hope.
