the laddoos so we can practice their roles with them and Dawud before we need to get dressed for the wedding.
We find out they’re both taking much-needed naps after getting baths. Linda promises to wake them up with enough time to prep, so we head out to set up the guest sign-in space.
Sarah showed me where she wanted the two tables—at angles in the pathway between the barn and the house, with enough space between them to let families through but not too much, so that it could still serve as a funnel to the reception.
She wanted to make sure everyone passes through to give their in-lieu-of-gifts donations to Syrian relief.
As we’re setting the table decor in place, Haytham and Nuah come out of the barn with the floral ceiling netting held taut and low between them, flower side down. Dawud’s walking, no, skipping behind them, a bag of zip ties in his hands.
I briefly pause arranging the framed engagement photos of Muhammad and Sarah on one of the white-clothed tables, my curiosity to see how the whole flowers thing finally turned out tugging at me, making me want to turn my head and stare. But I can’t.
I’m over Nuah. I mean, I have to be. But it’s easier to be over him without seeing him.
Wear a pretty dress, wear a glazed gaze, lock up my heart, and get this wedding done.
I prop up a letter board with Sarah’s chosen caption, a verse from the Qur’an: And among His signs is this: He created mates for you from among your own selves so that you may dwell in tranquility with them. And He has placed love and mercy between you. Surely in this are signs for those who reflect (30:21).
I feel a tug on my sleeve.
“Don’t you want to see it?” It’s Dawud with a huge smile on his face.
“Yeah. I’ll come in a bit.”
“Janna! You gotta see it going up!” Haytham yells as they make their way down the aisle between the chairs to the gazebo.
Tats nods and pulls my hand. Then she leans in to whisper, “I got your back. I’ll block your vision of the dude. Let’s go see it.”
Ugh.
I follow Tats to the gazebo, where one of the hired hands is setting up two ladders. Haytham and Nuah, still holding the net low, are discussing how they’re going to affix it, and, after looking up to assess things, they send Dawud to go get a step stool from the kitchen so that he can stand on it and pass them zip ties.
As soon as they lift the floral creation up to check where to center it, and we see the full glorious effect of it, Tats and I exchange glances.
It’s just so ridiculously, ecstatically joyous. That’s the only word for it.
Paper flowers of different sizes, their petal edges curling inward from the weight of the paint but looking naturally so, intermixed with real flowers, amid lots and lots of foliage. A riot of happiness, sprouting unabashedly.
It turned out the opposite of tacky. It turned out sincere.
I imagine Muhammad and Sarah looking at each other while committing to love each other forever and ever, under the joyful flowers, and I feel moved.
My brother is getting married. He’s deciding to take this huge, confident step.
Is this why people cry at weddings?
I abruptly turn to the lake, the emotions swirling in me.
It hits me that Muhammad is the closest person to me—in terms of really understanding the particulars of my life. And I know the parts of his life no one else does.
He’s the only one who knows what it feels like to live in that space between loving Mom and Dad, separately.
Is that why he always checks on me? And looks out for me? Because he knows what it feels like too—even though he doesn’t show it?
But do I do that back for him?
Tears start falling, and I can’t believe the amount of times I’ve cried this weekend. But I’ve just realized that people cry at weddings, yes, because of happiness, but also because they represent a life change, and part of that life change is that my brother’s not going to be as close to me anymore. He’s leaving our family for a new life.
Tats puts an arm around me and leans her head on my shoulders. “I’m sorry I made you come to see it.” She straightens her head and points at Dad in the distance directing the photographer and crew. “Also, can I get him