Some Bittersweet Memories

Chapter Two

Daneen Mohsin

Duct taping the last box, I let out a breath of relief and fell back, sitting cross legged on the floor. "Thank God. I can't believe I'm all done." I gave a light pat to the box and smiled in satisfaction.

What I couldn't believe more was the fact that we were finally moving out of this town. It was like a dream coming true. I used to wonder if we would always be stuck here since relocating to a completely new area required a lot of money. But there I was, about to leave so much behind and starting afresh.

Alhamdulillah. (All praise be to God)

It was maybe a little sad that I was going to miss this neighborhood more than the people. I mean, who would miss someone that viewed you and your mother as some extremely dangerous people only because you chose to cover your heads? That was the only excuse some people needed to hate someone they barely even knew. But then again, this neighborhood was famous for having racist residents and rejection was expected if you weren't like them.

Standing up to move the box, my eyes fell on the mirror in the corner of the room and I couldn't help but cringe when I took note of my terrible appearance.

My white tank-top was covered in specks of dust and my dark brown hair were wildly sticking out of my bun. But what bothered me the most were the bandages on my forehead and nose along with the wide bruises on my arms that were slowly fading away.

Getting weird looks and being called rude names whenever I would step out of the house with my Hijab on weren't a surprise anymore. I had prepared myself for that kind of attitude and tried not to let it affect me. But no amount of preparation was enough to make me expect a physical assault by a complete stranger.

It was just another day of me descending some stairs while heading to the bus stop when someone pushed me out of nowhere and I went tumbling down the steps.

It was like the world had stopped. I was in shock, unable to believe that a stranger could intentionally harm a person without even knowing them. Perhaps, it was too soon to pass such a critical judgment.

Strangers came running to help me. They offered me water and aided my bleeding nose and injuries as they apologized for something they had no say in. When a blonde woman even went as far as taking me home in her car, I could hardly stop myself from tearing up.

That day, I realized something: every place with bad people had good ones too.

Although when I got home and saw mother's worried face, I couldn't bring myself to tell her the truth so I made up a story of accidentally falling down the stairs - which wasn't a complete lie.

"Dani?" Mother halted in her tracks when she entered and saw me tugging at my bandages. Her eyes softened. "Are you feeling better?"

"Mhmm!" I nodded my head with a cheerful smile and flicked my thumbs up. "The wounds are healing."

"Alhamdulillah," she muttered with a small smile before a scary look flashed across her face and she started yelling. "I always tell you to walk carefully but do you ever listen?! You're always so absentminded, you don't even watch where you step! Did I give birth to a kangaroo?"

Did she what...?

Mother abruptly stopped and closed her eyes, whispering, "qadar Allah wa ma sha'a fa'al." (Allah has decreed it and what He willed has happened)