My eyes shot open along with the alarm. I quickly pulled off the covers and set off to the washroom to make wudu. The water however was so terribly cold and I was a shivering mess after I was done.
I raised my hands in takbir and I was determined to not let anything get to me, but it did anyway. I started thinking of things I wouldn't even think of if I was not in salah and distraction after distraction invaded my brain and after I was done I was so frustrated with myself that I jumped into sujood and started crying.
A heart not attached to Allah is a heart in distress and that's exactly what I was. I was slowly losing all the motivation to do anything at all and that feeling of pure bliss and happiness was gone.
I asked myself, did I even read it right, was my salah even worth it?
But I knew better than to have these thoughts get to me. Salah is the one powerful connection a believer can have with his Lord. Cutting it off only because you cannot read it properly would be cutting off everything that has to do with Allah.
And so I do the wise, by letting my tears do the needful. To help me calm down. Crying is scientifically an action of relieving yourself, and it is good when you do it.
Even a boy must not be discriminated against it, it is completely normal and humane to cry.
I don't know how long I was in that position because I didn't notice Hamza come in and sit on my bed, probably waiting for me to get up. So I hastily wipe my face off dried tears and look up at him. He wasn't exactly a morning person but he looked cheerful for some reason but his face fell when he saw mine.
"Were you crying?"
"Hah. No..."
"Well, okay. Captain obvious." He snorts.
I chuckle half heartedly and now he's more concerned.
"So what happened to tough old Diya?"
"It's nothing."
"Go on. You know you can tell me anything right?"
"It really is nothing. Just feel a little down because I can't really concentrate in my prayers."
"Oh..." was all he could manage because he was no saint himself.
"Yeah, 'oh' now tell me why you look a tad bit more cheerful than you should be?"
"What. I can't be happy?" He huffs.
"You can, why though?"
"You really want to know?" He wiggles his eyebrows at me.
"Yeah...?"
"Well guess who's coming back to town?" He starts off dramatically.
"Who?"
"Guess?"
"Santa?"
"Guess?"
"The old lady who used to give us nice chocolates? Oh man..."
"Guess again." He rolled his eyes at that one.
"Dad?"
We both laugh at that bittersweetly because we know that will never happen.
"The girl down the street you had a huge crush on?"
His ears turn red and he just says 'guess' more sternly.
Huh. So much for innocent guessing.
"Oh is it that cute guy from your friend's street?! Oh my Gooooood." I fake fantasize over him and this makes Hamza groan. He was not particularly fond of that guy. Screw that, he hated the guy.
