half past nomad

A friend almost lost his job recently. That process shook him. As a family man, despite savings, he was naturally very worried about providing for his children. The price of milk, the price of milk.

He cautions me: Plan, save, be careful. You need to do all this and more as the head of the house. Do you know what it’s like to have that fear, of not being able to provide food to your kids?, he quizzes me

No. I don’t.

I have a son with autism. I worry about his future every day. I cry in private. I scream to Him. I stare at my child every day and do mental math. Every single day. I play stupid mental chess on how to position my other kids to help him 15-20 years from now.

I have a wife with a possibly life threatening genetic disorder. I keep my phone charged constantly in case I get The Call from some stranger or the police. I trace her movement every few hours to make sure she’s still alive. I look forward to an expensive gadget like Apple Watch because it can transmit heart rates to others. So I will know she’s alive. I watch her daily get weaker and stronger. It’s a painful magic.

And then my children were diagnosed potentially with the same life threatening disorder. Have you ever tried muffling your tears and cries with your children in the back of your car because your child is in pain and you can’t do anything about it? When your little girl says “Baba, my back is popping like bubbles. It hurts” and you beg Allah (SWT).

No, Alhamdulilah I am not afraid of the price of milk.