Day 4 of my writing challenge

Yesterday I glanced at Day 4’s writing challenge and I’ve been worrying about it since, which is why I’m posting 1 hour past my deadline. I’ve been staring at my screen, typing words and hitting the backspace button repeatedly. Then I decided to Google search the definition of “inspiration” and Google kindly obliged:

“Inspiration is the process of being mentally stimulated to do or feel something, especially to do something creative.”

So I thought about it and asked myself: when do I feel most “inspired” to write? And I immediately found myself picturing the cutest 87 year-old rolling her hair as she does every single night without fail. 

My teta, my grandma, has a daily routine. She wakes up. She has her yansoun (anise tea) and kaak. Then she gets dressed for the day – class is key. She sits there so elegantly until it’s noon – one Almaza beer, please. So I drink one with her. Then it’s lunch time. After lunch, we have Turkish coffee for the second or third time that day, depending on how many visitors we’ve had. We talk, we laugh. Then it’s time for her evening shower. She changes into her equally classy robe-de-chambre and starts rolling her hair using hair rollers and pins that I’ve known ever since I can remember her. She does it so that it stays perfectly waved for the next morning. She has her dinner: toast, cheese, and tomato and finally, after watching the news at 8:45 pm, she asks for her evening glass of whiskey. And this is when we really talk. 

She talks about her days in Deir el Qamar, her hometown – when she walked the streets, people stopped and stared at her beauty. I’m not surprised given the Grace Kelly look she had going for her. 

She talks about old Beirut, in peace and in war. 

“عايام بيروت” و “وقت البير كان يروح عالمنارة”

She talks about Albert, how he never let her go to bed upset. She talks about her days at the American School for Girls. 

She talks about being 22 years old and hosting Ain el Abou lunches for prestigious guests like the President – with no prior cooking experience. Being a Deir el Qamar native himself, he named her the “Ambassador of Deir el Qamar in Ain el Abou”. 

“كان يسميني سفيرة دير القمر بعين القبو”

She talks about winters in Ain el Abou during the war – about being accidentally locked out in the snow and having to wait for Albert, my grandpa, to come back from work with the house keys. And somehow she makes that story sound warm. And as she talks, I find myself taking notes of things she’s saying.

So there it is. This woman, who from her stories made even wartime seem beautiful, has and continues to be an inspiration in my life. No matter how lonely it may get for her living alone and only getting to see her children and grandchildren once or twice a year.. No matter how much age takes its toll.. Not one complaint. Just grace. Elegance. Confidence. Inspiration.