My father who needs no introduction

My father was never out of my sight, even if he traveled everywhere. Not only because he was my father, but because he was the only one with whom my imagination actually matched...because he was the boy of my dreams and my lover, because my father was always the hero of all the tales.

When I was little, I loved seeing his eagerness for me in his eyes, and I would pretend to faint, not realizing then that I was taking his heart out of his chest; I just wanted him to stay by my side and enjoy his love.

He was my teacher in youth and adulthood. He was the poet whose verses about love hijacked me while I was dreaming of a knight. He was the superhero that nothing could stand before him. Then he was my colleague, my teacher, and the answer that I look for in my intellectual references.

He would change his soul according to my mood, spinning tales for amusement and jokes if I frowned, making medicine for me if I got sick, riding the horse of imagination with me, where nothing is impossible. He had a magic carpet, and I could see the whole world while next to him.

I know very well how much my father tired and did a lot to make his name and make us warm and safe, and he still hugs us and protects us from the vicissitudes of the days as if we weren’t grown up, as if we were still young. Every time I throw my soul in his arms, I feel like I didn’t leave our apartment in Mokattam with my little braids, crying if he left and joyful when he returned to me. I recapture the features of his face as he scrolled through my notebooks, completing my grades that were missed in days and placing a star in his signature for me.

I adore him telling me “my darling”, and I adore his description of me as “her father’s daughter”, because my soul is tied to his soul, and the best award and better than all academic degrees is when all the people around me tell me “You are her father’s daughter”; that father who did not trouble me with the need to search for a role model for my children, as his biography is success, and his impact is engraved in the ground, as he walked slowly and insistently towards his dream. He is my favorite philosopher, possessing opinions and sayings in my life that need volumes in which to write down what my father says. I did not see the morning except in his eyes, and I knew the sweetness of water only from his palm, and I did not feel safe except in his arms. My father, who needs no introduction or explanation; it is enough for me to say his name as if he was born known.

There was more than one encounter between my father and death, but God saved him out of mercy for our hearts. After every time, I cried and said if I had a thousand hearts, I would have removed a heart every day and made for him two sandals from it. If I had the gift of years, I would give him my life hundreds of times. If I could write poetry, I would write him love poems. If I were a doctor, I would describe his smile as medicine for the bereaved and weak. If I were a star, I would draw you into the sky. If I were without limits, I would meet you beyond the reach.

Suffice it to say that I love you!

I am not enough for the last extent of that love; you are where you have gone beyond that feeling and meaning.

Peace be upon you on your birthday.