Gypsy Notebooks

Khaled Khalifa

At the threshold, I stand and observe the wall plastered with white lime. My grandmother rises from her sleep, enveloped in that awe I see in the eyes of others, so I approach her. Aisha protests and tries to pull me away by my hand. She says: "Get up, Grandmother wants to break her fast." She motions for Aisha to leave me be, and Aisha winks at me to get up, but I don't. I love the colors of her clothes and the smell of her hands as she holds my hair, and her eyes as they make my father understand that he should give up his bad habits and grow up to be a respected man like my grandfather, or at least like my uncles who have passed away. My father sits on the threshold and stares into space. My grandmother speaks very little. She only leaves her room to visit the shrine of Annab, whom everyone believes to be the great ancestor who settled in this land and granted this lineage the legitimacy of existence. My grandmother tells stories to those gathered around her. I love the light emanating from her hands and I enjoy listening to the myths told about her. I was that male who swaggered with his masculinity, carrying this great legacy that began to shackle me as I forgot the scent of the wilderness that emanated from my pores.