The past few weeks I have been sticking to my schedule and working on the book a couple of hours each day. Things have finally taken shape in my mind and I feel I have come up with what I want things to look like. It might be a weird format but it’s what feels right to me so I will continue with it. I have been blogging three times a week which was what I had planned. It feels good that I can visualize what I want for my book before it was confusing and overwhelming. I am also proud that I am sticking to my blogging and writing schedule! Thank you all for being patient with visits to blogs and with support!!!
A recent picture of me and my dear mom, my mentor and my rock!
This is just a little free write and not connected to the book. Set on the Western compound where we lived for 7 years. Riyadh, 2000
Their annual visits lasted only 3 weeks and were shared with my sister in Al-Khobar. Weekends and traveling days were counted and parceled out making a schedule on the calendar. Boxes were stacked near the storage room wall after arriving to his office on the Western compound. Nothing was to be opened and not even a peek was allowed until they arrived. Mom would sit in the extra room sorting items of clothing, toys and little necessities that he had not provided for members of our household. Brightly colored gift bags reflected each child’s personality and stood waiting along the closet mirror. It was a time of comfort and support but also one that meant a glaring view of our reality.
A pool of blood formed on the floor where tissues had seeped through. I grabbed more napkins adding them to the crumpled mess that had been placed around my thumb. Bits of onion lay across the plastic cutting board left to dry, leaving their usual sting. At first a strange sensation flashed over me and I felt faint, grasping the plastic table to steady myself. I mopped the floor and picked up any remnants of this little accident not wanting the children to be panicked. The messy gob of sticky napkins was replaced and quickly an assessment of the situation was made. I was grateful that dinner was already prepared and onions to top a meal were optional!
The rest of the day mom and dad coddled me, replacing bandages and insisting that I sit and rest. School trips and clean up were all attended to and created a stark contrast to my overwhelming daily routine. Mom served the meal, dad did the evening dishes and the children assisted them. The evening progressed in its usual fashion; he watched the news, took a nap and then left for the night to sit with friends.
The next morning he grabbed his brief case and asked the usual questions, would I be leaving the compound with my parents and did I need anything from him. I stood gripping my thumb hoping that he would somehow show a sign of interest in my well- being. I told myself that he had not noticed and would have offered his help and inquiries if he had. I boldly stuck my hand out showing him a hole where part of my thumb was missing, explaining what had happened the day before. Disgust and irritation welled up and his words were sharp and deliberate “Why would you be so careless!” He walked away but first reminded me to rest and be ready for the usual time that night.