salamm
Active member
- Messages
- 118
- Reaction score
- 265
- Points
- 63
Hello to my dear friends! I hope you are always well and smiling.
Today, I wrote a story about a grand daughter and her longing for her grandmother. I hope you like it
this is just imaginary....
"I pray to God to grant me a long life so that I can see you in a wedding dress and then pass away" The only sentence I remember from my grandmother is when she sat in the narrow hallway with her prayer shawl, watching me pray. I turn back and look at her lovely face under the shawl, which has become round like the moon. I am delighted by the prayer she made for me in my childhood. I imagine you in a wedding dress and a white veil, what a world it would be. I look at her and my lips turn red with happiness. At that moment, I didn't know I shouldn't be happy with this sentence. Instead, I should worry that the time will pass so quickly that I will grow older every second and she will become older and weaker every second. I should worry that the day will come when my heart will beat to see her again in the hallway. For the scent of the Istanbul Rice (a popular dish in Iran) that will never be wrapped in the house again. For the person whose presence brings everyone together. My beautiful grandmother. Growing up was the only wish that wasn't beautiful. You will always remain alive in my heart and memories. The sound of the rain hitting the window brings me out of my memories and my mind commands my hands to wipe away the fallen tears from my face. The picture frame in front of me on the vanity table reflects and makes me smile with longing. Longing of a certain kind. I close my diary and send a heartfelt love, in the form of a prayer, to all the grandmothers in the world.
Today, I wrote a story about a grand daughter and her longing for her grandmother. I hope you like it
this is just imaginary....
"I pray to God to grant me a long life so that I can see you in a wedding dress and then pass away" The only sentence I remember from my grandmother is when she sat in the narrow hallway with her prayer shawl, watching me pray. I turn back and look at her lovely face under the shawl, which has become round like the moon. I am delighted by the prayer she made for me in my childhood. I imagine you in a wedding dress and a white veil, what a world it would be. I look at her and my lips turn red with happiness. At that moment, I didn't know I shouldn't be happy with this sentence. Instead, I should worry that the time will pass so quickly that I will grow older every second and she will become older and weaker every second. I should worry that the day will come when my heart will beat to see her again in the hallway. For the scent of the Istanbul Rice (a popular dish in Iran) that will never be wrapped in the house again. For the person whose presence brings everyone together. My beautiful grandmother. Growing up was the only wish that wasn't beautiful. You will always remain alive in my heart and memories. The sound of the rain hitting the window brings me out of my memories and my mind commands my hands to wipe away the fallen tears from my face. The picture frame in front of me on the vanity table reflects and makes me smile with longing. Longing of a certain kind. I close my diary and send a heartfelt love, in the form of a prayer, to all the grandmothers in the world.
Last edited:
