Gracious Sun in November

With my mother and father returning, I use the camera to start understanding their relationship, getting closer to them and photographing their dynamic. I don’t think I’ve reached any conclusive photo, but it is still a great exercise and important topic to explore for me to understand my parents more. I had a conversation with my mother while my father was away in Saudi Arabia for Umra. After that conversation, I opened up about my plans and thoughts for the future. For the first time in a long time, I felt that I forgot how to be a son to my mother. I felt that I had closed up so much in recent years, always looking to support, be strong and providing, that I wasn’t able to share any part of my life with her. The same way she is learning how to live her life without her children as the last chick leaves the nest this year, the same way I have to learn how to be a son to my parents as adults.

I was much more in touch with the outside this month, but it does not feel like it. I went on a hike yesterday in the north of Jordan, planted some native trees in a Miyawaki method forest earlier in the month in Marka in Amman, visited Iraq Al Amir with my family, a beautiful area in Amman that has springs running through it since antiquity, known for its pomegranates and figs, and went picnicking near Jerash for the day.

I trained for a 21 km run for 3 weeks, ending the training with a difficult 15 km run on the track. I’ve never reached that distance and I felt that it was an amazing achievement. I wanted to be able to work on something gradually and be able to deliver the result. Despite me not running 21 km, I know that I can after running 15 km in the rain and dark. Muhammad Ali was a great inspiration to this run. I listened to his autobiography during most of the run.

I do feel that the days are passing by quickly. Luckily the weather has been gracious to lend us its sun and warmth. I would mark November as a mindless attempt to live my own life. I understand the potential of visiting Jordan, and not necessarily living in it as a photographer.

A man from the land of Syria, Deema, and Fadwa working on planting baby trees in this public park.

He lost his land and family during the war in Syria, and still works with good intentions.

My father and mother in my grandmother’s house in Amman. My mother examining a peculiarly looking persimmon.

Iraq Al Amir