Eid this year was, (as usual), highly anticipated and prepared for well (WELL!) in advance. It came and it went: a blur of cacophony, colour and laughter with the food and drinks thrown in for good measure. The house was fit to burst with children and adults, fresh sea-breeze and the aroma of delicious eats. Squeals of delight and excitement from the children, pierced the constant chatter of the adults - on Eid, no one minded whether they ran in or out, up or down, ate a cupcake (or two, or three, or four), or overdosed on chocolates. Lunch time arrived, and the elegantly laid tables squeezed in more than they catered for, the briyani that mum had spent all of the day before cooking to perfection was salivated over, the kola-tonic and lemonade passed from hand to hand, and the jokes rolled out like ribbons as the sumptuous spread and comfortable companionship was enjoyed. After a while, it was time to open presents, and wrappers where ripped apart while fumbling fingers and wide, expectant eyes found surprise and delight in even the smallest packages - it wasn't so much WHAT you got, it was the simple pleasure of giving and receiving.
Sitting there among my family that Eid, I remembered why it was exactly, that despite it all, I loved them.
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