My grandmother, my dad’s mom, died when I was 3. Today I visited her grave. It was an odd feeling, walking among the many graves. I sat by her grave and put a flower. My brother poured water to clear the dust. I watched the grave stones and felt tears behind my sun glasses. It was sunny out but not too hot. It was early morning. It was a peaceful place to be in. No sound, no worry, no problems. A place where the soul is above and life is no longer down on earth.
The first thing I think about when I wake up is coffee. I love the smell, but I mostly love the comfort it provides. It makes me forget what is happening in the outside world. It makes me feel okay. It reminds me that I am alive and that I have a lot to be thankful for. During the day, I edit web content. At night and on weekends, I sing and jam with a guitarist. And somewhere in between the day, I write. I write about my immigration to the States as a child. I write about my father growing older and my fear of losing him. I write about the common loss immigrants share. What I would like to achieve mostly is to become a better person. I like to help make the world a better place. I am bothered by poverty and homelessness. I am bothered by inequality. As a woman growing up in the Middle East, I naturally became a feminist. I care about women's rights, their ability to voice their thoughts, to sing freely. I love connecting to people. I love hearing their stories. If you have an idea for something I could write or something I can do to help, or if you need music for a small gathering, please message me. View all posts by Elle