Inspired by her constant positivism, I broach the one topic I assume might not be so comforting: the children’s future. But I am proven wrong again.
“Me and my husband often talk about this. But then we realized that even parents whose children are normal worry about this same thing. Whatever is to happen to someone, it inevitably will happen to them. It’s possible that after us their future will be very good—if Allah has written this for them.”
Although we never talked about it, I could feel the presence of their God like a fifth family member. Too obvious to point out, yet too precious to encroach upon, I left my questions about their faith go unanswered. It seemed petty to point out the power of something that so obviously pervaded everything about them.
As our conversation came to an end, and we sat down for a friendly cup of chai, I couldn’t help but feel I had known Sumreen and Rais for years.
Regardless of their hesitations about the public, about what people might perceive of them, their hearts were as open as any could be.
And meanwhile, Zeeshan had moved from stroking my hair to picking my toenails. I felt loved.
