Neither can we, my badass friend. Neither can we.
This makes me so emotional. Mrs Weasley knew the Dursleys wouldn’t visit and that Harry’s got no other family and to hER HES PRACTICALLY HER SON SOMEONE HOLD ME
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well—one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress,
Just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly.
Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her
Problem? we told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she
I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly.
Shu dow-a, shu- biduck habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick,
Sho bit se-wee?
The minute she heard any words she knew—however poorly used—
She stopped crying.
She thought our flight had been canceled entirely.
She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the
Following day. I said no, no, we’re fine, you’ll get there, just late,
Who is picking you up? Let’s call him and tell him.
We called her son and I spoke with him in English.
I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and
Would ride next to her—Southwest.
She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it.
Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and
Found out of course they had ten shared friends.
Then I thought just for the heck of it why not call some Palestinian
Poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours.
She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering
She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies—little powdered
Sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts—out of her bag—
And was offering them to all the women at the gate.
To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a
Sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California,
The lovely woman from Laredo—we were all covered with the same
Powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.
And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers—
Non-alcoholic—and the two little girls for our flight, one African
American, one Mexican American—ran around serving us all apple juice
And lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar too.
And I noticed my new best friend—by now we were holding hands—
Had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing,
With green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always
Carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.
And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought,
This is the world I want to live in. The shared world.
Not a single person in this gate—once the crying of confusion stopped
—has seemed apprehensive about any other person.
They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women too.
This can still happen anywhere.
Not everything is lost."
Naomi Shihab Nye (b. 1952), “Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal.” I think this poem may be making the rounds, this week, but that’s as it should be. (via oliviacirce)
When I lose hope in the world, I remember this poem.
I’m really glad I read that.
That was beautiful
So if we have to show women what the baby looks like in their womb and tell them how the process works before allowing them to get an abortion, does that mean we should teach our soldiers about the culture of the lands we’re invading, and explain to them that the people we want them to kill have families and feel pain, just like Americans?
You know what I hate? When people get pissed off when you tell them you don’t want them to touch you. Like excuse me, I don’t actually want you to touch my arm. I don’t want a hug right now. I don’t give a shit if you’re family. I don’t care if the phrase “I don’t want to be touched” puts you off. Just don’t fucking touch me.
The thing that hurts me the most about Sirius and Harry is that when they looked at each other they were both hoping to see James
Peter was their friend
He was a Marauder
They trusted him
He wasn’t stupid
STOP DESTROYING THE TRAGEDY OF IT ALL BY MAKING PETER SOME STUPID IDIOT THAT THEY DIDN’T WANT AROUND BECAUSE JAMES AND LILY WOULD NEVER PUT THEIR LIVES AND THE LIFE OF THEIR SON IN THE HANDS OF A BUMBLING IDIOT THAT THEY DIDN’T LIKE AND CONSIDER A DEAR FRIEND
THAT THEY’RE NOT TRYING
BECAUSE HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU KNOW IF THEY’RE TRYING OR NOT
JUST BECAUSE IT DOESN’T LIVE UP TO YOUR STANDARDS DOESN’T MEAN THEY’RE NOT TRYING