Mich

It's about me; not what I study, not what I work, it's just me!
May, 26th, 1993 at midnight (Wednesday)!
I was born! Like a Wednesday in the middle of the week (Arabic saying)!(not a precise translation but whatever:P)
I came to this life to be the fifth member of a great lovable family: my grandparents, my parents and my three years elder brother. Later, my younger brother and sister joined us. I grew up with them seeing nothing but happiness, enjoyment, and fun. Time passes so fast; I can still remember so many things like they are happening now.




Chapter 1- Going Crazy Time

"No, I wanna play!" wearing a dress and sweeping the long chain of land beside my house. That's a reason to stop playing outside, but in rare cases a reason to stop wearing dresses when playing! It's not a suggestion to quit games! Being small and thus short best challenges were so long..just like trees. I haven't saved any branch as a kid; trees probably got bored and annoyed..still they were too shy to ask me to go away and leave them alone. They were generous as well (and I never said no).

I even fell in love with trees that I tied myself to one. Why? No clue! Maybe, at one point I asked myself whether I spend time on trees more than birds do. I even broke a branch that begged for mercy, but I refused to leave the comfortable zone of its wrinkled marks.

However, I liked the soft land under trees, too. Nothing was better than a cold mixture of soil and water. This time I wasn't planting a tree, but I was making shapes with mud. My brother and I have designed a castle.. I can still see it like a picture in my head with the slow small river beside it. It took some time to get clean again..but it was totally worth it.

Mountains had their unique music that can be played all time! Small family trips were always soothing. This time not because they provide a chance for more trees!! It's fun and relieving to enjoy the cool breeze tickling your short haircut, moving between planted fields making things move together like a harmonic dancing team or like the waves of the sea, and making sounds that make you just want to close your eyes and listen. It's like giving up for the beauty of nature. Craziness is definitely a company; nothing is better than coming home walking all the way from the mountain..though I'm extremely bad with directions (and Math -Husshh). It just happened that I really wanted to come back home by myself, but I was six or seven years old. I just walked in front of my family's car while they drove slowly behind me waiting my wobbly feet on the little rocks and tiny flying dust to stop me. Their bets on me throwing myself in the car successfully failed. Yes, I reached home walking!

Childhood really has its rare impact on people; once you grow up you'll willingly leave things behind knowing that it would need lots of craziness and a weird moment to get back there. I'm saying a rare impact because nobody out there who is mentally healthy and conscious would will to give up on beautiful things with absolute agreement and infinite approval.

Many things I let go from my childhood. Just like the endless fluffy, white, cotton candy like blanket. No dude..not my sleeping blanket..The amount of snow used to fall back in the 90s was beyond description compared to these days. Snow would cover roads, roofs, and backyards, and plants would live under snow for ages. People would get stuck in their houses for days curling around the warmth of the stove, unless they wanted to use their feet and go out. That's it..going out. It used to be so cold, but kids don't have 'cold' in their dictionaries..they don't know what a dictionary is! I used to greatly feel good when we knew that we could go out to play with snow..as long as our bodies could carry the weight of the amount of clothes on! Children raced their ways out of the door after conquering the closets, moving as fast as possible, throwing the heaviest clothes on their tiny figures, and spinning around in the house making sure to be the first out...but how many 'firsts' there could be?!

The journey begins with touching the softness and coldness of those minute bitty light shiny particles..it's like a process which begins a huge fight, a funny lovely fight, snowball fight. Knowing how to make a steady firm round snow ball was always a concern...it never worked with me though! Most balls cracked and vanished before reaching their targets! And regardless of the poor quality of the snow balls I made, I enjoyed shooting them in whatever direction I could..I also enjoyed those that accidentally go to a straight path hitting my brothers and friends..It feels like a great achievement..though you have nothing to do with its success and it's all about coincidence, you still feel like a hero! You even enjoy not enjoying the hits you get! Another form of manipulating the snow and everyone's favorites were slides..especially long ones..they're like a roller coaster but a ground version.

It never mattered how we played on the slide as long as we did; we either wore nylon clothes that could help us head to the bottom smoothly or we used the known sleds. Just reaching the bottom and going back to the top for another turn was the best exercise ever..and whenever you start your way down, it feels like it's the first time you ever try it. Cold breeze hits your cheeks turning your face into a pinkish piece of ice. The ones who hit their feet onto the slides always got their meals of shouts because of ruining the slide. You breathe fast here and slow there and your heart bumps like it will slap you and utter and beg you to stop..but you don't. Kids have a durable and long-lasting energy with no expiry date. I almost forgot that old freak who is as old as humanity is (if humanity still exists)..he used to be part of every single snow time, in every house, and in every place. He's universal! He should join the records of playing with snow the most..maybe..Snowman! The best thing is that though we get to annoy him, he never says anything, he never said anything..He almost whined but for some reason we were the ones whining. Who whines after playing? I did, we did, and you did..When parents call their kids inside and the old same excuse is pronounced everywhere:"We haven't finished playing..we didn't play enough..we just started"..but they don't work well..and you admit it only inside of you that you've been playing for a decade!


Chapter 2-Everybody Goes to School

Usually, going to school for the first time means M&Ms; this is my shortcut for Mourning all Mornings! I witnessed that, but it wasn't me. Since I was a little kid, I always wanted to go to school; maybe I liked the idea of it or just enjoyed being a "schooler" (I know this is not a word). My brother and I used to walk to school every day rushing who would get inside first. Kindergarten was "kinder" the chocolate; you eat, you play, you even sleep! I do remember a small bed we had in our classroom. However, I still couldn't get how the kids used to fall asleep in the middle of all the screaming and talking. Maybe because THEY got tired of screaming and talking. For a week or a bit more, our daily breakfast was sandwiches and hot milk; we enjoyed sipping milk while listening to the sweetest music and gibberish songs coming from our fellows' wide open mouths. Some adored adding their own musical notes to the symphony, some invented new levels adding them to the musical scale, and others just listened in complete awe hiccuping in admiration every now and then.

School to me wasn't only a place where I learned how to spell my name- by the way I still spell it the same way even though everybody I met in my life asked me why I spell it the way I do! I made lots of friends then, which is basically when friendships are most true. You know, somebody who sees you wetting yourself or sneezing the hell out of your nose and still agrees to sit next to you has to be a great dude! And being a great dude also means to laugh at silly things with your friends like when you play 'Hide and Seek' just covering your eyes. Then, when somebody finds you you hit the laughing gas because you hid really well and you were surprised to be found. I said that it is a silly thing, but actually it's just the kids' honest, pure, and pretty world that only a kid would understand.

"Finally, the blue uniform." That's what most kids think of when they let go of their pinkish KG uniform. Heading to the first cycle of school meant a lot. It meant to have a bigger bag with bigger books that you finally get to take home with you. It meant lining up when the bell rings and going to recess with the BIG kids, they were really giants to new first graders, which wasn't very pleasant when you want to run because you'd end up bumping into someone, bouncing back, and landing on the floor-just like that! Having new books was like having a new baby born; you play with him/her when at the beginning. Once you realize you'll be living with them, you build up the witch-crafting skills. I liked my new born books, I couldn't bare the mathematics book though. Everything went well with mathematics, I mean you add a number or you deduct one. It's not a big deal. The problem started with multiplying, and I started it by how much I loathed it! I just ignored it like I'm going to do now! Here you go.

My relationship with the English language developed over time until the fourth and fifth grades were I had a huge transformation.

(to be continued..)