Page 31 - Solstice Art & Literary Magazine 2021

a picture of the love and adoration that Nizar had for the woman of his dreams. I found myself emu- lating that love for my Jiddo. Soon enough, I had practiced and read over the poem so much that I had memorized it.
“It is not about memorizing,” Jiddo told me three days before the wedding, interrupting my in- ternal self-praise at not having to use the paper as a reference. “It is about performing. This is a declara- tion of love. Show me that.”
The day of the wedding, I saw Jiddo an hour before the ceremony was to begin. I was speaking really fast and swaying from side to side in my long dress and heels. My anxiety was radi- ating off me in waves.
“Don’t be nervous habibti,” he whispered to me as he gave me a hug, in an attempt to ab- sorb the shockwaves of my nerves. “Pretend like it is just us practicing in the kitchen like we have done for weeks.”
When it came time for me to walk onto the stage, although there were over 300 guests sitting in chairs, I immediately locked eyes with Jiddo. His piercing blue eyes met mine and a sense of ease and comfort washed over me like the tide coming in.
Arabic words flowed off my tongue like sec- ond nature. I knew when to pause, to raise my voice, and to show passion. Emotions I never knew I car- ried enveloped my voice, as though I had experi- enced a wretched heartbreak or a soulmate’s con- nection. My voice never wavered, fortified by the strength of love I was trying to convey. I cracked a smile when I saw Jiddo smirk at a part he knew I had trouble with, then versed the next stanza with- out stopping to take a second breath. I fooled both the audience, and myself, into thinking I had been transformed by a love as grand and encompassing
as the one Qabbani boasted on these pages. Jiddo smiled with pride.
Over a year has passed since that wedding, but Jiddo and I are still very close. Though our rou- tine changed from working on a poem to playing card games, I still visit him almost every day. It was at one of those visits when I noticed he seemed off. Jiddo’s eyes were darker, more like a stormy sea, and his breathing was labored. I could tell he was tired.
When we said goodbye, he stood in the doorway wearing a mask just like I was.
“Take care of yourself, habibti,” Jiddo said as I was getting in the car.
I wish I had hugged him.
POKER TWINS • CALISTA CHANG
Pencil • 18”x24” • Scholastic Art & Writing Awards: Honorable Mention
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