Birthday Letter

Struggle, young man. The strife will make you better.

These are the moments in life where I was happy.

The night before I came back to Seattle. We were sitting around the table in Saad's garden. The monopoly board was busy with fake money, scattered Chance and Community Chest cards, and blind enthusiasm. Usman was sitting across me. Ali to my side, and Saad next to him. I don't remember if the crickets were chirping or if the leaves were whispering in the wind. But I remember that the sounds around me were calm in the chaos. 

My last day at Microsoft. We were on the football field playing for the Youth Care charity. Rohit was there. So were Rebecca, Brandon, Akram, Namita and David. The feeling on my palm of the last time Brandon tagged me in after our substitution was beginning to fade as the cold flooded numbness into my limbs. The horizon of the field, and of the prospect of what the future would hold was laid out before me. The team was all together.

The night I drove to Snoqualmine falls with Manda. It felt like the ending to an episode of a TV show. The night was dark and the clouds glowed in sheer white lit by the rays of the harvest moon. The torrents of water were crashing mercilessly after their desperate free fall. There was mist in the air. We were hugging because it was cold. We were hugging because it felt nice. 

The night Charissa gave me her letter at the train station. Our palms were sweaty and our hearts were heavy. The approaching end of a beautiful and revealing relationship were callously stampeding towards us. The citizens of Seattle made their business about us, but that moment was solely ours. Sadness about the impending end was wrapped around me like the cold wind on a winters night. But the cherished memories of our realized opportunity hugged me like a warm blanket.

The night Safia drove me to the airport. Her soft, small hands clutched mine like those of an eager infant around their comforting rattle. I forget who was driving the car. I forget who else was there with us. In the moment, I forgot that I was at the forefront of adult life, with all of our hurdles still ahead of us. I felt needed by another human being, like I've never felt before or since. Me, with all my insecurities, failures, triumphs, weaknesses, features, and strengths. I was needed by this person tightly holding my hands, not ready to let go.

The day Safia had lunch with me at Subway. She dressed up that day for me. I was wearing my usual attire. I felt like I owe it to her to try harder to be the best version of me that I could be. But it was less of a daunting challenge, and more of a victory. Like that realization itself was the victory. She sipped from my water bottle even though I told her I was ill, one of her first professions of her affection for me. When I took a sip after she put the glass bottle down on the plywood table, I could still feel the warmth from her tender lips. I let the warmth swim through the sinews of my lips.

Why am I on this journey, what is my destination, and is it the correct one for me? I am no closer to knowing the truth to these obsessive questions than I was that day with Safia in 2009. I don't know. But this is not a daunting challenge. This realization is a victory. I don't know. And I will find out.

Struggle, young man. The strife will make you better.