Whenever I fall out of harmony with the uni-verse, I cloister at my mother's home. It's full of three things; books, paintings, and kids, yet the walls have more to offer..
I can hear her opening doors

I still remember how she shortened every single one of her galabeyas, and how the space between her ankles and her feet is exactly what infinity looks like.

I still remember the six gold ghawayesh that turned into four then turned into two, and I still remember thinking maybe one day they covered her whole arm like a shiny armor but she kept on falling defenseless because time is a cruel thief. I also remember how she robbed time of its powers by keeping her ancient wise soul an adventurous young one until the very last day; the skill she wanted to learn at the age of seventy was driving, because knitting is obviously for the young.

I still remember her taking pride in her roots, like a baobab tree, and I still remember how it was this that taught to stand my ground, balanced and rooted.

I still remember how people called her house "the mother of Egyptians' house" because that's the name of the neighborhood where it was. I still remember learning at the age of nine that the neighborhood was named so in the honor of the revolutionary Safia Zaghloul, and I still remember thinking that they named Safia Zaghloul so in the honor of her, because she was 'the mother', the source, the one more push, the spring, the lens, the revolution and beyond.

I still remember how her hair looked like moonlight, and how her skin felt like flower petals.

She wasn't an angel; she wasn't made out of light. She was made of water and fertile soil; she was a complete human being in all its glory, molded by the hands of Atum, and Minerva.

I still remember, but some may not. So let me remind those of you who are lucky enough to still have their grandmothers' hugs and smiles to make a pilgrimage to them; kneel under their feet, and offer warmth and bedtime stories in treasure boxes to the goddesses that they are. But for those of you who are as unlucky as myself, let me remind you that you don't have to look for your grandma's vibes in old boxes and and China sets. Instead, take a good look at the night sky; those who follow the stars can never be lost.