Tweet
Two Middle East mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a
>> plate of
>> tabouli and a pint of goat's milk..
>>
>> The older of the two pulls a bag out of her purse and starts
>> flipping through photos.
>> They start reminiscing.
>>
>> 'This is my oldest son, Mujibar.
>> He would have been 24 years old now.'
>>
>> 'Yes, I remember him as a baby' says the other
>> mother cheerfully.
>>
>> He's a martyr now though- the mother confides.
>>
>> 'Oh, so sad dear' says the other.
>>
>> 'And this is my second son, Khalid.
>> He would have been 21.'
>>
>> 'Oh, I remember him,' says the other happily,
>> 'he had such curly hair when he was born.'
>>
>> 'He's a martyr too' says the mother quietly.
>>
>> 'Oh, gracious me . . . ' says the other.
>>
>> 'And this is my third son. My baby.
>> My beautiful Ahmed. He would have been 18',
>> she whispers.
>>
>> Yes' says the friend enthusiastically,
>> 'I remember when he first started school'
>>
>> 'He's a martyr also,' says the mother,
>> with tears in her eyes.
>>
>> After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim
>> mother looks wistfully at the photographs and,
>> searching for the right words, says . . .
>>
>> 'They blow up so fast, don't they?'
>> plate of
>> tabouli and a pint of goat's milk..
>>
>> The older of the two pulls a bag out of her purse and starts
>> flipping through photos.
>> They start reminiscing.
>>
>> 'This is my oldest son, Mujibar.
>> He would have been 24 years old now.'
>>
>> 'Yes, I remember him as a baby' says the other
>> mother cheerfully.
>>
>> He's a martyr now though- the mother confides.
>>
>> 'Oh, so sad dear' says the other.
>>
>> 'And this is my second son, Khalid.
>> He would have been 21.'
>>
>> 'Oh, I remember him,' says the other happily,
>> 'he had such curly hair when he was born.'
>>
>> 'He's a martyr too' says the mother quietly.
>>
>> 'Oh, gracious me . . . ' says the other.
>>
>> 'And this is my third son. My baby.
>> My beautiful Ahmed. He would have been 18',
>> she whispers.
>>
>> Yes' says the friend enthusiastically,
>> 'I remember when he first started school'
>>
>> 'He's a martyr also,' says the mother,
>> with tears in her eyes.
>>
>> After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim
>> mother looks wistfully at the photographs and,
>> searching for the right words, says . . .
>>
>> 'They blow up so fast, don't they?'