Gemotions

The scent of cardamom and sandalwood drifted through the air, clinging to the rough-hewn wooden beams of the family home. Aunt Fatima, usually so reserved, was practically vibrating with energy. She had just announced her acceptance of Islam. Her son, Omar, a quiet young man, was suddenly a whirlwind of activity, setting up a makeshift prayer rug in the sunroom.

He had always been a bookish child, but now his eyes shone with a new intensity. He began to research the meaning of the Quran, his fingers flying across the laptop keyboard as if he had been awaiting this moment his entire life. He started waking before dawn, a time of day he had always loathed, and now he practically skipped to the bathroom for his ablutions. There was a lightness to his step that was previously absent, a buoyancy that made even the creaks of the old house sound like a joyful chorus.

His father grumbled, but Omar simply smiled, a quiet, knowing expression that belied his usual self. He started eating Halal foods and taking meticulous care of his new prayer beads. He began to learn Arabic. It was like watching a seed burst forth, cracking the shell of its former life and reaching for the sun.