"Sister"

It was my final year of undergraduate school. I knew that I wanted to keep going and work on getting into grad school, but I didn't have the proper time to dedicate to studying for the GRE. I couldn't just take the test blindly, either, since taking any grad school exam would cost me plenty of money. Money was the reason I couldn't dedicate my time to taking my next step after my impending graduation. I was constantly working when I wasn't at school, and rent in the city wasn't cheap, even with a roommate.

On top of that, things were getting rockier with my boyfriend. We wanted different things in our future, but I had deep feelings for him, and neither of us could seem to completely let go. But, we could argue into the night, leaving me feeling desperate that he was going to leave me.

Things were falling out with my friends that I made outside of college. An entire group of friends that I made in the city were deciding that they hated me one by one. Gail, one of my friends in that group, was character assasinating me. Everyone got a different story. Some thought I was on drugs. Others thought I was uneducated and never graduated high school. I found all of that ridiculous since I was either at work or in class. A mutual friend of Gail's told me it was because I "took too many spoons to listen to." I was indeed depressed at the time, but I tried my hardest not to make that anyone's problem. I was also honest. Really, what I think the truth was is that they all just wanted a reason to dislike me so that their group would go back to how it was.

Another friend and I had a falling out recently, too. She'd been staying with my roommate and I rent-free (we wanted to be a safe haven), but she was being messy and when we asked her to pick up after herself she went ballistic. So she told our mutual friends that my roommate, Dustin, and I were mean, and I lost another section of friends.

I was feeling isolated, hopeless about my future, stressed about making rent and eventually student loan payments. I was pretty sure it was also all my fault.

I was tired of crying. It made my head hurt, and I didn't have time to cry in the bathroom between each class or seminar I had. One Friday, however, I did find myself with about 20 minutes to spare before I had to leave campus for work. I remembered that my university had a meditation/prayer room, so for the first time in a long time, I decided to meditate.

It was my first and only time in the meditation/prayer room. There were foldable privacy screens, and plenty of large, plush pillows to use. The lights were kept dim and the window blinds were shut to have a calming atmosphere. I went to one of the corners of the room, chose a pillow to sit on, crossed my legs, and started my calming breaths to lead into meditation.

It was late afternoon, which I did not realize was a prayer time in Islam. Another student came in, set himself up to pray, and started playing a prayer call on his phone. He couldn't see me because it was dark, and I was behind a privacy screen. I kept still on my pillow, and listened to the call to prayer. I didn't understand what was being said, but it felt peaceful to sit there and listen.

After he was finished with his prayers, he turned his phone off and realized I was in the room.

"Oh!" he said, surprised, "I didn't see you there, sister. I hope I wasn't too loud."

"You're okay! It was nice," I replied. He wished me a good day and left the room.

Another student came in for prayer time. She sat down near me, and set her lunch next to her as she got ready to pray. Her hijab was simple and sophisticated at the same time. She also didn't notice me initially, and looked startled when she noticed me.

"Oh, hello, sister," she said. She reached into her lunch bag and offered me some of her food, "Would you like some?"

I thanked her and refused. She smiled at me, nodded, and went on to observe her prayers. When it was time for me to go to work, I got up and nodded silently towards her and left the room.

I felt tears of gratitude stinging my eyes. I kept them away, and instead thought of the two strangers I encountered in the meditation/prayer room, who called me "sister" and offered me kindness. It didn't matter to them that I was not there for the same reason, to pray. It didn't matter to them that they didn't know me. They both gave me kindness and generosity, and very nearly, a cookie.

If I ever saw those two people again on campus, I wouldn't know. I couldn't make out their faces in the dim light of the room, but I will always cherish and remember the warmth of their kindness. They had no idea how badly I needed it. They didn't need to know - they just gave it, anyway.

Sister, brother, wherever you are, I hope you're receiving the kindness you gave me that day, so many years ago.