My Grandmother's Treasures

Hind Saeed Al Yamahi

In a time when life was simple, my grandmother’s fingers were the magic that wove beauty into every corner. Her fingers weren't ordinary; they wrote poems with threads of wool and palm fronds.
With a touch, the desert wool transformed into a warm "sadu" that told winter tales. With speed and dexterity, she adorned sleeve cuffs with shimmering "talli" stars. Her strong fingers turned the "raha" to grind wheat, churned the "siqa" to produce rich milk, and baked loaves of bread that exuded the scent of tenderness.
From the heart of the palm tree, her fingers built "khoos" stories; she made baskets for dates and mats that brought the family together. These were not just crafts, but magical touches from my grandmother's fingers, leaving a trace of her soul in every piece, a memory woven with love that time cannot erase.