Growing Up

I was raised by dadi, wise and bold, a book in one hand, and a watering can in the other, flowering her rooftop plants. Waking up, at the crack of dawn, the sun stretching and yawning. She whispers. SubhanAllah


The red sun is awake. It warms up my heart, and memories rush to my mind. I get up with her, as she shines brightly with the color of dawn. She’s my little memory. My little piece of heart that grows every time I do.