Fatimah Shaikh

September 11, 2020

First Draft Self Portrait

The hum of the engine turns off as our car pulls into the driveway, and my grandfather

and I walk up to their familiar door. The family room was still dark, yet had a light glow from the

kitchen across the hall. I put my shoes with the others, and walk towards the smell coming from

the kitchen, trying to make the sound of my feet padding against the hardwood floor quiet. I am

suddenly overwhelmed with the smells of food that my grandfather is cooking. As she turns

around, I give her the tightest hug, only for her. I can feel the light rumble of her chest as she

laughs at how long I hold onto her, just like she did last time and the time before that. As soon as

I let her go, we began talking as if we were best friends who haven’t seen each other in a long

time.

As she kept telling everything that was happening in New Jersey, she had the most

relaxed face, her eyes gleaming with every detail. And for that, I was again with my best friend.

I began to help with the cooking, the steam from the pot rising up to my face, as I

remembered myself standing over a pot with food over the stove, while standing on the kitchen

chair ever since I was a kid, to now finally sixteen. I eventually gave up with the cooking,

confused as to what my grandmother kept randomly putting in the pot. My grandfather and I

went into the living room, careful not to trip over the small step that has been in that same

hallway for the last 30 years. Clumsily walking into the living room, as my grandfather was

looking for a good movie to watch, we quietly settled for The Godfather. We both sat intently

watching Sonny’s death, thinking, He would have lived if they had E-ZPass. This is the room
where I remember all those times watching old movies, especially on my birthday, with my

grandfather on my right, hearing him quote lines from Clint Eastwood’s Escape from Alcatraz to

Never Say Never Again. This is where I would help my grandmother sew clothes together with

new fabric , from silk to cotton, while watching Food Network. This is where the three of us

would fall asleep late at night after a movie marathon and way too much food.

I quietly got up and served everyone food as my grandfather and grandmother joined me

in the dining room, the movie playing in the background. My grandfather was in front of me,

while my grandmother was on my right. We sat eating quietly, not saying a word. There was no

need to, the comfortable silence was enough.

“How’s the food? Is it good?”, asks my grandmother.

“It's great, Nano.” I reply. It’s grandma’s cooking, it’s always great.

“We have a surprise for you later”, smirked my grandfather. I don’t think he ever understood the

concept of surprises, especially on my birthday.

I had quickly cleaned the table for my surprise. My grandmother ushered me back into

the living room. I was greeted again by Don Corleone’s face, until the screen went black. I saw

the two small bags on the coffee table. The first one had three pairs of Tommy Bahamas socks,

identical to my grandfather’s. Whenever I saw him, he had the most snazzy printed socks, and

now we were twinning. The second one had a long velvet, jewelry box, with a diamond anklet.

My grandmother told me it was her mother’s for a while, until it was her’s, now mine. The edges

of the chain were slightly tarnished, but the stones were still sparkling. I thought about how

much this small anklet went through before coming to me. I thought about how my

great-grandmother wore it when she was my age, on the other side of the world, in Pakistan, and
how it found its way to New Jersey. I imagined how touched my grandmother felt when her

mother gifted her such a memorable piece of her own childhood. I thought about how many

memories were cherished within that anklet, and how many of mine it will be a part of.

I thanked them both for the amazing gifts that I would never let go of. I cut the tag off of

the socks and put on the same pair my grandfather was wearing. I took the anklet out of the

velvet jewelry box, and put it on my right ankle. My grandfather turned the t.v. back on to The

Godfather, and we silently continued to watch the end of the movie. A wave of memories hit me

as I remembered all of my other birthdays with my grandparents, but none of them could beat

this one. I realized how the simplest things are the most beautiful.