Meriem “How it is”
Meriem thought about this man throughout her life. She thought about him every time she danced to make her sister laugh. She thought about him every time she saw that candy, wrapped in shiny red paper. She thought about him when the neighbors brought food to the house when her father was sick, when she watered her mother’s garden, when the flowers bloomed, and every time her sister gave her a bite of her favorite sweet bread even though she already ate her share.
Every time she saw a doctor, she thought about him. That time when her son fractured his wrist playing football and she was given a note by the doctor requesting a stool sample, urine and blood test. She thought about him, particularly when the nurse explained to her why those tests were necessary, “Your son said he has a headache. It’s just to be sure,” as she pointed in the direction of the cashier.
The doctor I knew asked, “What good have you done today,” she thought.
