On Sunday, we ate our "last" lunch together for the next few weeks. Walid made scrambled eggs with dates he bought from the Palestinian shop, whose owner probably overcharged us. But we forgave him anyways. I texted our friend Abdul Latif from Louisville about some news from an archive opportunity. He replied to the news and asked if Ramadan was officially on Monday. I was confused because I thought everyone
could check online. Walid was quite expectant of such a question, since he was "in the loop." Upon my
request, he typed an affirmative reply to Abdul Latif on my phone. We wanted to play chess but my eyes were sore so we played the Arabic alphabet game (in which we name six categories with any given Arabic alphabet) and slept early around 11pm. We woke up at to Walid’s alarm in the
middle of the night. Rather than stuffing himself, Walid was content after drinking some water and went back
to sleep afterwards.
The next day, we showered and he
prayed. I made some breakfast for myself and was careful so that he did not unintentionally
catch the wafts of the aromatic food. He also helped me install my thangka painting into the new frame I bought, which had laid idle in its scroll for months.
I wrote my paper on various communities and their burial grounds in North America. Walid called his brother and some friends to wish each other well. He left to move his things and met up with me again at 4:30pm at Downtown Crossing. It felt like we had parted for a long time and we hugged. Many people headed in the same direction as us. He noted that it was the first Monday for him in Boston. He often left for New York on Monday mornings.
My classmate had asked Walid and I to watch Avengers: the Endgame with him in the theaters, but we were not in the mood. In response, Walid played the “Ramadan” card and said he would be resting at home for the next few weeks. But he joked that he still moved some of his belongings from my place to his new place, and even chaperoned me to my 5:30pm Zumba class. The weather was beautiful and he bought some coffee for me, just to smell and anticipate the taste.
I wrote my paper on various communities and their burial grounds in North America. Walid called his brother and some friends to wish each other well. He left to move his things and met up with me again at 4:30pm at Downtown Crossing. It felt like we had parted for a long time and we hugged. Many people headed in the same direction as us. He noted that it was the first Monday for him in Boston. He often left for New York on Monday mornings.
My classmate had asked Walid and I to watch Avengers: the Endgame with him in the theaters, but we were not in the mood. In response, Walid played the “Ramadan” card and said he would be resting at home for the next few weeks. But he joked that he still moved some of his belongings from my place to his new place, and even chaperoned me to my 5:30pm Zumba class. The weather was beautiful and he bought some coffee for me, just to smell and anticipate the taste.
Today's Zumba coordination was quite difficult, and I had not practiced for months. A girl danced in front of me and even thought Walid was
looking at her. Walid diverted his attention to his phone instead. By the time
I finished, we were both dehydrated and hungry. We passed by a Firestone chain store and I asked Walid if he knew about the Liberian dictator involved in the resource scandal. We arrived at the T station and waited for the subway while a man in a red-checkered turban bounced his rubber ball against the wall. We thought about eating at a Jordanian restaurant, but they did not have main pescatarian dishes. We might visit on a Saturday for their buffet instead.
On the Orange Line, we saw the beautiful sun and Walid joked that it would be nice if someone could push down the sun. Luckily we made it to the Chinese restaurant right around Iftar (7:40) and ate to our hearts content. He said a friend in the Gulf sent him a picture of his sumptuous iftar, and he thought about sending ours to his friend as well. Both of our phone batteries ran out so I drew a picture of our iftar dinner when we returned home. It also occurred to me that this month would be great for some low-key blogging.
On the Orange Line, we saw the beautiful sun and Walid joked that it would be nice if someone could push down the sun. Luckily we made it to the Chinese restaurant right around Iftar (7:40) and ate to our hearts content. He said a friend in the Gulf sent him a picture of his sumptuous iftar, and he thought about sending ours to his friend as well. Both of our phone batteries ran out so I drew a picture of our iftar dinner when we returned home. It also occurred to me that this month would be great for some low-key blogging.
We listened to Sura Isra' together and watched a bit of The Prince of Egypt. Walid noted the animated picture's similarities with the Holy Quran's narration of the events. Then he left for his new place. I helped him pack some of his things and we parted reluctantly.
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