I enjoyed my coffee finally; it was perfect. Not too bitter, not too sweet, but a perfect balance between the two. It was two days before Christmas. She was looking for ice-cream in the frozen aisle and I was sipping my drink, waiting. The shoppers were buying their Christmas foods and goodies, chocolates and sweets, Christmas cards and Santa hats, Champaign bottles and expensive wines. There was no line for caffeine addicts like myself; the little Starbucks inside the grocery store was practically empty. Just as I was savoring my last sip, she showed up, holding a bucket of ice-cream, and told me to get up. Outside, a woman in a Santa hat was asking for donations. I didn’t have a dollar bill.
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