Bayan to him once every day.”I furrowed

Bayan AbdeljalilMark Owen English 111January 23, 2018One Moment…. Was the day that occurred to me that everything can change in one moment. That was the day that I realized how short life is. It all started on the afternoon of…”Come talk to your grandfather!” Yelled my mother from the living room, her voice qualified to alarm the neighborhood. I put down the pencil and hastily closed my textbook, creating a loud thud. “Come on!” yelled my mother once again, yet has managed to have a louder voice. I hurriedly went down the stairs, allowing my fingertips to run down the wooden staircase railings. Once I arrived at the living room, I whispered, “Can I talk to him later, I have homework that needs to be finished.” She put down her arms and cuffed the speaker of the phone with her palm, and sighed, “He wants to speak to you, plus you’re aware of the time different from Palestine and Michigan, we can only to talk to him once every day.”I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion,”How is talking to someone once a day a ba-” before being able to complete my sentence she transfers the call to a video chat and faced the smartphone directly over my face.I grasped the phone in annoyance and smiled, “Hi grandpa Yousef, how are you?”My grandfather’s face appeared on the screen and his mouth slid upwards, creating a warm smile.”I’m doing great, it seems like you have some homework that has to be finished,” he replied, his expression gentle and sincere. His gray hair was neatly combed down his scalp, the vibrant greened colored shirt brightened his green eyes that crinkled up when he smiled. “Oh, you heard,” I glanced up at my mother, and she shook her head in disappoint,”I’m sorry I just have quite a lot of homework to complete,” I explained. I waited for a hurt response, however, he maintained his smile and responded with, “I see, go ahead finish your work, we can talk another time.”Guilt instantly washed over me but disappeared since I knew I can intelligibly speak to him tomorrow.A few weeks pass and the rain poured down fiercely upon Ann Arbor, Michigan, that night, pounding on the rooftops. My shoulders relax and I sink deeper into the bed while listening to the comforting raindrops. My eyelids grow heavier, and I slowly drift off to sleep. I snap out of my sleep, feeling a source of forgetfulness washing over me. I just realized, it has been weeks since I spoke to my grandfather. I quickly get up, instantly missing the comfort of my bed and look over my phone. 1:03 AM, with the seven-hour difference it is about morning over at Palestine. I grab the phone and sit up on my bedstead, hearing the bed creak beneath me. I quickly press the facetime icon on my phone, and video chat my grandfather. The ringing echoed throughout the bedroom, on the last ring he answered. I sat up and turned on the light, “Hi grandpa, how are you?”I said. After a few moments, my grandmothers face appeared, “Your grandfather is not feeling so great right now” she replied. I furrowed my eyebrows feeling puzzled and responded,”What do you mean? He seemed fine a couple of weeks ago.”She stared at the camera for a few moments, her face scrunching up as if she’s deciding something, then said,”Maybe a few minutes wouldn’t hurt.” I heard the wood squeak through the mobile, as she was walking then, passed the phone over to my grandfather.I smiled, expecting the same man I spoke with a couple of weeks ago, with the neatly combed gray hair, green eyes blaring through the screen and the welcoming warm smile. However, this man’s hair resembled thin strings, that was displayed chaotically over his head, and his radiant green eyes have become dark along with dark circles under his eyes that seemed to be layered. His face was completely buried down with wrinkles, that I can’t find myself to recognize. Was he like this when I spoke to him before? I asked myself. My cheeks fell and I frowned, the smile that was once on my face immediately vanished. A weak smile formed on my grandfather’s lips, and he said, “How are you?”His voice was raspy and his white t-shirt stained, green, with what seems to have been some food. A lump in my throat instantly formed, “What’s the matter?”I asked. He covered his mouth with the crease of his elbow as he loudly coughed several times,”I’ve just been tired lately,” He answered. He glanced down at his watch and thought for several moments then finally glanced back up, a weary expression displayed on his face, “Shouldn’t you be asleep by now,” he asked. I fought the urge of continuing the video call, but at the look of it, it seems like he is the one who needed the rest. “Alright, I will speak to you tomorrow,” I replied. In the morning The smell of tea arouses me from my sleep. The burst of sunlight beams through my bedroom, the rain from last night completely gone. I yawn and follow the smell of the tea down the stairs, hearing my footsteps grow heavier past each step. I pause and look around the living room, spotless, I thought. The glamorous teacups with diamonds outlining the cup and the flowery design running along through the cup struck my eye. The teapot and mini tea cups took place on a table in the center of the room. Alongside the tea places a platter of dates, this means one thing. In Palestinian traditions, when a relative passes away the close families must serve dates and tea to those that visit. “Who died?” I called out, I look around for anyone to respond to my question, but no one answered. I stepped into the kitchen and see my family surrounded in one area, almost like an isolated island. My mother’s hand has been occupied by a phone, they all look up when realizing I was there. “Who died,” I called out again, my mother placed the phone down and answered softly, “Your grandfather.” I gazed blankly at my mother, “What do you mean? I state, “I just spoke with him last night.” Silence broke through the room. After a few moments my mother replied with, “He has gotten sick” shattering the silence. That’s absurd, I tell myself. “He was perfectly fine a couple of weeks ago,” I say. “I know that, but he was getting older,” acknowledged my mother.”I was just speaking with him last night,” I muttered. “That does not make any sense, how can a person go from healthy to sick?”I ask. I stare ahead at the wooden table, processing what is happening. Subsequently, the realization stroke me. This is the reality, a person can go from delighted to horrify in one moment. In one moment a person can go from living to dead. In one moment existence of one’s life completely vanishes and never reconstructs. At that moment I realized how short life can be. Life is too short to push things b

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