I was very young, and she would take me out to coffeeshops, order me éclairs and Pepsi, and we would talk for hours. She would tell me about her friends, her deceased father, her art career, and even about Freud. I would tell her about school, books I’ve read, and my girlfriends.

I was around 7 years old, she would sit me down next to her on the dinning table while she painted, draw the outlines of Cinderella on a big piece of cardboard, and give me a set of acrylic paints and brushes to color in the outlines. She always framed and hung everything I did.

I was around 10 years old, she would play hide and seek with my brothers and I, and she would hide behind doors, and look for us beneath the beds.

I was around 12 years old, she would take me on trips to Jareer, our favorite bookstore, and wait patiently as I spent hours reading the backs of books and deciding on which books to buy. Then she would read them after I finished reading them, and we would spend hours discussing them.

I was around 14 years old, she would sit next to me as I surfed online, and we would laugh at the forwards together and sometimes play cards.

I was around 16 years old, she would take me on car rides around Amman at night, because I always loved riding the car, especially at night, and we would talk about the streets, the signs, and the memories.

I was around 18 years old, she would accompany me to Jordan University when I went to apply, and when I went to the interviews.

Mama was the first friend I ever had. The best friend of my life; I speak, she understands, I feel, she feels too.

I am around 22 years old, and it amuses me that when I am in need to talk, I do not call my friends, I call my mother. When I am feeling down and anxious, I go sit next to her and she gives me a hug and everything is better. When I am happy and overwhelmed with emotions, I go to her and she is instantly just as happy and just as overwhelmed. There are no secrets between Mama and I, not that secrets would work anyway, she reads me like an open book.

Ana mabsoota kteer Mama, o ana ba7ebbek lalsama. Shukran 3ala tafahomek la kol eshi o 7obbek ili ma 2elo 7dood. Inshalla dayman mnerfa3 rassek o minkhalee mabsoota zay ma absateena. Kol saneh o inti salmeh 7ayati, o 3o2bal il meet saneh :)

Thank you for being such a wonderful mother, and such a wonderful friend. I love you. Happy birthday Mama.

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