A moment

You only notice just as its finishing, those moments that time slows down: the beauty, tenderness, pain and connectedness whirl and melt into each other so you can’t tell one thing from the other. I experienced one today, as I embraced a beautiful person that I might not see too many times again, if at all. As I put my arms around her to thank her I was surprised to feel her embrace me back. And as I said ‘thank you’ and ‘God bless you’ whispered into her neck and hair more than her ear, I felt that spark of friendship, mutuality, of being more than just two people who had got to know each other at a mum’s and toddler’s group. We hugged, kneeling on the floor together. She was fighting back tears and not looking at me full in the face to try to hide away her tears, but in that moment we knew something deeper about how we as people know and are known. We understood something in our faiths in Allah and God, and the working out of those faiths that bound us together as sisters. We were mourning something together, mourning the ending of something. We know that something new will be born in its place but we don’t know yet what it is, and it doesn’t matter right now anyway because right now we’re mourning. Mourning friendships and companionships that will not continue to blossom. Mourning missing out on watching our children grow together. Mourning the loss of laughter and kiwi fruit on a Thursday morning. That embrace was one of the reasons I came here. To meet and be bound up with people I might not have met otherwise. Thank you, Taslima, for everything that you and the team have given over the past two years. I honestly don’t know how I could have got through them without you. You are truly a blessing from God and I will not forget the many happy mornings that I spent with you all. Thank you so much, from the depths of my heart.