S.K. Ali

I wondered, if I’d seen her before I left home—if I’d felt her arms around me—would I have cried so easily on the plane here? Would her hug have transferred some of her calm—because she was the essence of peace itself, being the purest, softest, gentlest soul?

“Never, ever quake in the face of hate, Zayneb.”

“And I can’t believe you were smiling the whole time!” I felt like skipping to the pool in my sad clamshell burkini.

“Well, if you’re speaking up for someone, why be sad about it? Or upset? Be proud of doing the right thing. Something I teach each and every student I’ve ever had. Celebrate!”

The clearest feeling I remember is this: the way that it felt like the space between us folded and folded, and kept folding until the distance shrank, until we made sense to each other.