Category Archives: Memoir

The Season Changes

  Finally, after a long and unpleasant winter, the first flowers of spring are up, and we are able to plant the small impatiens seedlings that will grow into large globes of blossoms by the end of August.  My mother has … Continue reading

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In The Lab

  At the microscope, I notice that the patient’s urine is alive with Trichomonas– a writhing, one-celled creature.  I glance at the computer screen.  She’s in the Emergency Room because of abdominal pain.  This is not an emergency, unless some … Continue reading

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                                Night Life    Hushed streets before dawn The doors of the mosque still closed Two cats pounce and play   ۞¤۞¤۞¤۞        

Posted in Islam, Memoir, Saudi Arabia, Uncategorized, Writing | Tagged , , | 8 Comments

Left Behind

The house is large, very large. My mom and I hear each other’s every movement,  sometimes each other’s breathing.  I never noticed echoes before, but now, dishes echo, books thud, floors sing under footsteps, and closing doors startle the senses. … Continue reading

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Spring Cleaning

Spring, and inspiration from  has encouraged me to continue the project I started recently, the project of removing clutter from my bedroom, in order to create a serene space.  This morning I tackled the three boxes of photographs that have … Continue reading

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If Worry Could Fix Things…

One day last year, while my parents were vacationing, I ignored a leak from the bathroom on the second floor of their home. A day later, the leak exploded and drenched two walls of the kitchen downstairs. I developed a … Continue reading

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A Travel Secret

You go to the museums and the tombs and the ruins and the statues because everyone else does, because these places are famous, because you’ve seen pictures of them all your life, because the tours focus upon them, because these … Continue reading

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Next Time Someone Asks You…

 ******************************************************************************    Next time someone asks you to explain the difference between the way Arabs think and the way Westerners think, you might want to relate a story like this:  One night, I was a guest, along with a dozen … Continue reading

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  Bakhoor —its scented smoke hadn’t entered my nostrils in eight years, yet I recognized it  instantly. There it was, on the coffee table, in the mabkhara –the four legged incense burner from Saudi Arabia.    My daughter welcomed me into her … Continue reading

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Spaghetti on Sundays

  (This is an essay I wrote last year, when I learned that my father would die of his illnesses. My father died Sunday, March 9, 2008, at the age of 87, with his family surrounding his bed.  It was the saddest day of my … Continue reading

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