Sehri time at my mom’s house (note it’s not my house anymore) has always been a mad affair. Somehow my sisters and I are (used to be) at our craziest, brightest and funniest at the time, which promises an uproaringly loud 4am. We (used to) laugh like maniacs at everything possible usually prompting silent tears of merriment from my mom, and an absolute deaf ear from my dad, who after years of dealing with 4 females has evolved superior ignore mechanisms and prefers to eat and go back to sleep.
This year it’s k and myself alone since Mummy is in islamabad till after eid. And even though there’s a little jig in my heart at all the newness of things and life with him, I cant help feeling sad at the thought of my usual spot on the kitchen floor being empty, as my family congregates for sehri once more starting tomorrow.