Adult friend finded
It was the same as she'd left it: a pile of cushions by her bed for Little Brother to sleep on, a stack of poetry and famous literature on her desk that she was supposed to study to become a "model bride," and the lavender shawl and silk robes she'd worn the day before she left home.
The jade comb Mulan had left in exchange for the conscription notice caught her eye; it now rested in front of her mirror.
Even though her mother was American, her father always said his wife thought about food like an Arab.
Sirine's mother strained the salted yogurt through cheesecloth to make creamy labneh, stirred the onion and lentils together in a heavy iron pan to make mjeddrah, and studded joints of lamb with fat cloves of garlic to make roasted kharuf.
Tomorrow they would braise in a rich, tangy stew with sour red plums, their hearts and livers skewered and grilled, then wrapped in sheets of lavash with bouquets of tarragon and mint.
Three fat chickens pecked in the yard, unaware of their destiny as he sharpened his cleaver.
Mulan's gaze lingered on the comb, on its green teeth and the pearl-colored flower nestled on its shoulder.
She wanted to hold it, to put it in her hair and show her family- to show everyone- she was worthy. She needed to show them that she had bloomed to be worthy of her family name.
So I decided I wasn't obliged to be angry anymore, and I feel very good that we were able to spend time together during the five years before he died.” ― “Perhaps you've been through a seemingly endless string of difficult circumstances in life or you still feel anger toward your parents for painful childhood memories you have. If this has been your experience, and you've placed those memories in a vault, locked them away, and buried the key, who could blame you?
Whatever the difficulties you've faced, you can overcome the lies attached to your private logic that continue to hold you back. But, by doing so, what else--besides your memories--have you placed in that vault?