under the shade of a fig tree

on the ache of remembering, the joy of living, and the beauty of becoming

nostalgia is as dangerous as it is sweet, offering just enough to remind you of fleeting goodness before sending you back to reality. it sounds like waves crashing in and out on a trip you took with your family that you can conjure so clearly. it smells like sharing a cigarette with someone whom you haven’t spoken to in years, but once held close. it tastes like kulfi melting down your fingers at a picnic that lasted until dusk. there’s nothing wrong with reminiscing about these memories you alone can savor. I think we have a habit of viewing our past selves with a hint of melancholy because the passage of time signifies multiple chapters of life we’ve experienced since. thinking fondly of simpler times comes easiest for me in the summertime. I imagine each moment as a shell carefully collected in a jar - full of bittersweet and sometimes sad chapters. there is something very specific to Texas summer that reminds me of new beginnings and transitions.

and once summer ends, i’ll be someone new again.

as a rule, I’ve opted not to pick up my phone when I wake up and spend the first hour of the day outside the confines of a screen. it’s so refreshing to allow my mind the space to wake slowly through stretches and morning rituals without immediately being overstimulated by notifications, texts, and emails. i’ve also been off Instagram for over two months, and I cannot say enough about the inner peace that has accompanied that decision. instead, I made myself a cup of coffee with oat milk and a dash of honey and stepped outside to soak in some early morning sun. there is a fig tree perched right outside my house, but i’ve never been lucky enough to pluck them before they become bird food. everything is coated in hues of green, and it only takes a few minutes before i’m drenched in sweat. closing my eyes, getting to the dregs at the bottom of the cup, and appreciating the scent of jasmine sweetening the air around me evoked a deep nostalgia I almost hate.

in the colloquial sense, we’re all re-vamping our hot girl summer playlists, but on a deeper note, we’re urging the universe to be softer. more than anything, I am reminded of the innocence we once experienced as children during the summer months and how it is subconsciously being recreated. my sister and I were talking about that specific feeling in elementary school, when our only task was to shop for all the right school supplies with our parents. between staying in to watch cartoons when it was too hot to exist and taking day trips to the beach, I so deeply miss the feeling of being unaware. we take for granted the years of not having any responsibilities, wanting to rush the process of growing up. older people seemed so cool, so put-together - little did we know how each passing year also comes with a repository of ache you can’t escape. summer doesn’t halt for you to neatly package your feelings in a box and set them aside. what we’re all really reaching for is getting as close as humanly possible to being at peace.

ultimately, I think we spend too much time thinking about both our past and our future and not enough time being rooted in the present. personally, summer is unique in its ability to force me to slow down enough to take stock of right now. be it the meticulous planning of my week or the shared laughter with friends I spontaneously ran into, I keep coming back to the realization that I am too eager to fast forward an era i’ll undoubtedly look back at and cherish. I find myself thinking about whether my ancestors would be proud of the life i’ve created. my pockets of joy. an amalgamation of everything that makes life worth living. whenever summer rolls around, I am more attuned to how people live just a little bit more on edge. trying to strike a balance between a younger version of me who could juggle multiple social plans in a day, to someone who can’t wait to go home and read a book? growth at its finest. or maybe that’s just your late twenties.

the air is thick with humidity. you’re walking down a dimly lit street with your best friends and giggling about your latest crash-out moments. you hear Solange playing over the patio speakers of a bar you walked into. it’s one of those nights. no plan. no reservations. just the energy of being wrapped in the joy of seeing your friends carries you into the evening. the details are now lost in the shadow of constant laughter and tucked away as gratitude. now you’re taking the metro through downtown on a breezy evening to go to yoga class. earlier this month, you find yourself at the Ramy Youssef show listening to him and Mo take turns chanting “f*ck DJ Khaled” (if you know, you know). fast forward a few days, and you’re transported at the Orion Sun concert, swaying side to side, in awe of how summer concerts make you feel alive. relishing in the sweetness of these chapters that are writing the book of your life. you are and always will be the main character.

there is nothing quite like the sensation of being freshly showered and reading before bed, content but exhausted from the fullness of the day’s warmth. when I sat down to write this, I found myself at the crossroads between nostalgia as a haunting melody and the realization that living earnestly in the present is a gift. romanticizing my walks at sunset or the mundane nothingness in between feels like an act of rebellion. one day i’ll be nostalgic all over again for this exact chapter.

love,

rimsha