When I Was Just A Little Girl…

As a child, I used to curl up next to my dad while he was watching television or reading the paper. I used to watch my mum get ready and admire her Elizabeth Arden makeup and her Chanel No.5 perfume. When my parents were eating, if there was something they knew I liked, they would save it for me, even though they liked it themselves. They always wanted the best for us, their children – they encouraged us to study, taught us right from wrong, made us independent and confident, and even though they were quite strict about us going out too much – it was all for our betterment. I used to have nightmares when I was younger, usually being chased by something or someone, and [in the dream] I would keep running until I got to my parent’s bedroom, where I would immediately feel safe and no longer scared.

Now that I have children of my own, I can see history repeating itself. As soon as I sit down in the living room, my boys will come and squeeze in next to me, regardless of there being plenty of space elsewhere. It’s not always comfortable but I smile, thinking of all the times my dad never complained or told me to move. When I’m getting ready to go somewhere, my boys will always come upstairs to watch me, which can be annoying as they get in the way but my makeup and perfume must fascinate them as much as my mum’s pretty things fascinated me. She never once told me to go downstairs and let her get ready in peace. My boys have very similar taste buds to mine, so when I’m eating something I like, I stop mid-way and save it for them, because I know how much they will enjoy it. I used to think that perhaps my parents just didn’t like whatever it was as much as I did, but now I know better, they just loved me more.

The love I have for my children makes me further realise the love my parents had/have for me. When my children grow up, I want them to look back on their childhood as fondly as I look back on mine. I doubt they even realise how much they mean to me and their dad… the circle of life is as such that they probably won’t realise until they become parents themselves.

Last friday, at 11.49pm, I received a message from my brother, in our sibling group chat, asking if anyone had heard from dad since the evening. Dad was normally home between 9pm and 10pm, but there was no sign of him. His mobile phone was ringing but there was no answer. Dad had called me around 5pm that evening, but I had had no contact with him since then. My heart was beating fast and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. At 11.52pm, my brother sent another message saying he had got hold of the person dad was with, and they were [safe and] on their way home. All that anguish in just three minutes! I was too relieved to be angry at why dad didn’t tell any of us where he was going. The next day, when I was having my daily chat with dad, I told him about how he had us all worried. Dad just chuckled, which annoyed me a bit but then I thought about why he chuckled… We all worried him on a number of occasions, where we were out, and running late, and didn’t think to call him and let him know. We made him worry for far longer than three minutes. I think he also found it quite sweet that we were worried – I guess it’s nice to know your children care about you!

If you’re like me, then the title of this post probably reminded you of the Doris Day song… I’ve been singing it to myself this whole time. I leave you with the lyrics, they strike a chord with me:

“Que Sera, Sera”

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, “What will I be?
Will I be pretty, will I be rich?”
Here’s what she said to me

“Que Sera, Sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be”

When I grew up, and fell in love
I asked my sweetheart, “What lies ahead?
Will we have rainbows, day after day?”
Here’s what my sweetheart said

“Que Sera, Sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be”

Now I have children of my own
They ask their mother, “What will I be?
Will I be handsome, will I be rich?”
I tell them tenderly

“Que Sera, Sera
Whatever will be, will be
The future’s not ours, to see
Que Sera, Sera
What will be, will be”

Latifa xx