“Sticky Notes” is a monthly series accessible to all subscribers - you don’t need to be a paid subscriber to access these posts. These are intended to be quicker and easier reads compared to my paid series, “Growing Together.”
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Hello hello, and salam to everybody!
This is the first sticky note after a very special Ramadan. If you’re on my Instagram, you already know why it was special :)
The first half of the month was busy with the usual home routine. I hosted a couple of casual iftars at home with friends but other than that, it was a lot of quiet, peaceful time at home. My son was keeping all of his fasts for the first time and I wanted to ensure his days did not revolve around what-to-eat-for-iftar. Since he’s homeschooled, we had the luxury of skipping the usual school routine (which, let’s be honest, can feel like an extreme sport during Ramadan) and instead filled our days with prayers, books and long, meandering conversations that somehow start with one question and end somewhere completely unexpected. I had shared our plans for the month in my previous post, and I’m happy to report that he managed to tick off every goal. Made all the planning and effort worth it.
We were expecting my parents to fly in from Pakistan around the 15th of Ramadan. Now I am yet to do a big birthday party for either of my kids but my parents always take birthdays very seriously. They had carefully planned their trip to arrive a day before my son’s birthday but of course, life had other plans. The war broke out the day they were supposed to fly and their flight was cancelled exactly 5 minutes after they arrived at the airport.
What followed was a full day of my kids making heartfelt duas for their Nano and Nana to somehow make it. With so much uncertainty around flights, my suggestion to my parents was to wait it out for a few days and see how things unfolded. But their biggest worry was keeping their promise to their grandson to be there on his birthday. And lo and behold, the children’s duas worked their magic. Against all odds, they managed to secure seats on a flight the very next day and arrived just in time for the simple cake cutting we have at home.
The second half of the month felt like a blur. It was Makkah and Madinah trips, a steady rotation of sehris and iftars and what can only be described as a complete lifestyle overhaul for my kids. They relocated themselves to the guest room with Nano and Nana, effectively granting us parents an unexpected and much-appreciated retirement from bedtime duties.
Meanwhile, in a parallel storyline that felt like a suspense thriller of its own, my brother’s flight from Dubai was getting cancelled or rescheduled every other day. Nobody except me knew he was planning to come with his family. He had booked everything in advance and had been laying the groundwork for a surprise, complete with very believable excuses for why he wouldn’t be able to make it for Eid - so convincing that my parents had absolutely no suspicion.
But given the regional situation, the plan was hanging by a thread. One day he was coming, the next day he wasn’t. It was two weeks of hope, disappointment and cautious optimism. Long story short, he did eventually manage to catch a flight and we pulled off the surprise. The look of pure disbelief on my parents’ faces made every bit of the uncertainty completely worth it.
The two weeks after that were even more of a whirlwind. Eid celebrations, meetups with friends, taking everybody around the city and the general chaos of having three kids at home who had more excitement than they knew what to do with. It was the kind of energy that starts off adorable and very quickly turns into “someone please take them outside.”
This reunion felt special because of how many “firsts” it held.
It was the first time my parents visited my home without it being tied to a major life transition. Every visit before had been during big life changes - childbirth, moving houses or phases when the kids were very little and I was in the trenches myself. It was always them stepping in and taking care of things for me. This was the first time that it felt the other way around. I could cook for them, have them rest and just enjoy their time off. It was also the first time they spent Ramadan in my home since I got married and I’m so glad it happened at a time when my kids are old enough to remember it. Waking up for sehri with Nano and Nana around is the stuff of core childhood memories.
Another first was my brother visiting and staying with us. He had visited me once when we lived in Jeddah before, but that was a quick in-and-out trip after Umrah so I don’t count that. This was his first real stay at my home and having my nephew over was obviously the cherry on top.
And then Eid - this was the first time since getting married that I got to spend Eid with my family at my place. I’ve spent a few Eids in Pakistan after marriage but having my family over, in my space, felt different in a way that’s hard to explain but easy to appreciate.
Throughout the trip, I kept hearing my own voice whisper on repeat: “this is why we did it.” This, right here, was the part that tipped the pros and cons list in the favour of moving here from Canada.
Growing up, I only really had one grandparent around and I never had the whole “being spoiled by grandparents” experience. I didn’t know what it’s like to be surrounded by the kind of love that is uniquely showered by grandparents while they’re still healthy to be an active presence in your life. My kids, on the other hand, have hit the jackpot with four grandparents who adore them and are very generous with their love. Just having them around, spending unhurried time together, deepening their bond in real life rather than over calls, and the slightly excessive pampering that I pretend to protest but secretly appreciate - all of it creates memories that give children a deep sense of belonging, warmth and comfort for life.
Choosing to move countries once again was never a straightforward choice - especially after we had done the hard work of building a stable life as immigrants and reached a stage where things had finally “settled.” We made our decision fully aware that it came with a fair amount of risk. No guarantees that we’d settle smoothly into an entirely different way of life, no promise that it would all feel seamless. We also knew it was not a forever move. There was, and still remains, every possibility that we’d want to, or have to, go back sooner than we’d expected.
It’s that phase of life - your 30s - when your parents are clearly aging, your children are growing faster than you’d like and you’re supposed to be okay with both at once. You know it’s all inevitable but that doesn’t stop you from wishing you could press pause on certain parts and fast-forward through others. That, more than anything, is what made the risk feel worth taking. Even if it only gave us a few years to experience a different way of life than what we had become used to. A few more family visits per year, a few more surprise plans, a few more shared meals, a few more spontaneous trips to see their cousins - that alone felt like a fair trade.
This is it for now.
Remember me and my family in your duas.
Until next time, insha’Allah.
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