An Open Letter…

Social distancing has me appreciating the little things now more than ever.

Just chilling with friends, going out to eat, sitting on THE PORCH doing nothing.

Man, it was beautiful.

In all seriousness though, every school year, we didn’t need to make new friends, we had our friends. Not that we were closed off, but we knew who we were, who our friends were, what we stood for, and where we came from.

Yeah sure, I had friends in school, but those friends were typically limited to just school.

Rather, it was about the boys,

 

the ones we went to elementary school with,

the ones we went to madressa with,

the ones we rode bikes with,

the ones whose tires we locked our bikes to,

the ones we knew would be at the masjid for dhur,

the ones we knew who would ride over to the park right after dhur, hockey stick in hand,

the ones whose moms would call them home for lunch,

the ones who would be at madressa for 5:30,

the ones that would skip madressa with us,

the ones that would be at the park playing hockey on a Saturday afternoon, rain or shine,

the ones that would take a trip to the pizza store mid-hockey game,

the ones that we would send to grab drinks during the hockey game,

the ones who we gave nicknames to,

the ones who didn’t like their nicknames,

the ones who embraced their nicknames,

the ones that rushed home to drop off their madressa bags,

the ones that you knew were back at the park after madressa, ready to make teams,

the ones that jumped on their bikes in the middle of the football game to rush to maghrib,

the ones that would hide out with you as gusht patrol approached,

the ones that we bussed it to the movies with,

the ones that we planned cottage trips with,

the ones that manned the bbq’s and the sheesha’s,

the ones that had the links to the rentals,

the ones that we had road trips to New York with,

the ones that we were groomsmen and best men for,

the ones that we egged before their weddings,

the ones that we argued the moonwars with,

the ones that we argued fatwas with,

the ones whose houses we chilled at until 6am,

the ones who we played in hockey tournaments with,

the ones who we won championships with,

the ones that threw the best Superbowl parties,

the ones we played fantasy sports with,

the ones who we chilled at Canadian Tire with,

the ones that we chill with on The Porch with.

 

People may never understand what it’s like to grow up with the same friends your entire life, live on the same street and go through life experiences together. It’s not something that can be explained. But we’re truly blessed to have been able to experience it.

To our community, this Ramadan will undoubtedly be different. Please forgive me for any shortcomings.

Although we can’t get together as a community, please keep everyone in your du’aas.

 

Ramadan Kareem.

 

 

 

 

 

 


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