17 again...

The thing I miss most about school days is that feeling of belonging. Being part of something bigger than yourself, a sense of purpose, a sense of worth. How I took for granted then those things. The fact that i would never have a moment of loneliness, that I could always pick up the phone and call my best friend and share the smallest problem, the dumbest idea. Heck sometimes it was 10 friends who I had to share absolutely everything with, and the biggest problem then was the phone bill.

And the mad laughter. With my friends, my sisters, my cousins. If you’ve laughed like that, and danced like that to “mukkaala muqaabla” in your life... well then you know how it feels to live fully. Youth is not wasted on the young, it is drunk in full, dove in headfirst, reveled in. And then it comes back to haunt you when you are old. Really old, as in 32 years old.

I love my husband, I am obsessed with my daughter and her perfect chubby delicious little feet. And I am grateful for my life. I truly am alhamdulillah

But sometimes at 2 am, I find myself wanting to be 17 again.