BY: OMAMA BATOOL GHOURY, M.B.B.S., BATCH XX
It was a windy morning and dark clouds were hovering above us. Pink roses were blossoming, dancing with the blow of wind. My swing moved faster with each turn. I wondered what it felt like to be up there. But then I saw my mum’s wrinkled face, trying to focus hard on the mud pot she was making. Dad seemed busy in his newspaper, occasionally lifting his head out of it to tease my mother on the scowled face that she usually made when she was tense. The aroma of baked cake filled the air when my sister marched in exclaiming she forgot to put sugar in it. And how encouraging my dad was. My brother found the perfect moment to tease her about her incompetence in the kitchen.
I wondered again what it felt like to be up there.
It was hard to leave this family.
If only…if only I could stop this cancer from spreading as fast as it could and taking me far, far away from these people I loved.
About the author: With a love for interior designing, Omama is an optimist who dreams of running her own business along with medicine, someday.