At the crack of dawn, everybody is up. Hands are washed and ablution takes place to prepare for the morning prayer.
"Allahu Akbar, Allahu Akbar! " comes the melodious sound from outside within the far stretch from the Mosque to Dallas . The Imaam calls his fellow Muslim brothers and sisters to come and pray.
I cannot help but look to the right as my mother kneels before GOD with her eyes shut in a complete state of calmness, waiting for the Athaan to finish. She doesn't know that I love the sound of her reciting the verses from the quraan. Her voice coincides beautifully with my father's voice. Soft, intertwining with a deep voice.
But I have to remember all of it. I have to remember the sound of the hot kettle screaming for someone to pour the boiling water for a cup of tea. The five visitors who would speak for hours about the same topic sipping that lovely, hot tea. I have to remember talking in candle light darkness about how the country's system of Education is trying. Talking about Education, holidays and the period of the 80's and NOT about the government....