A Perfect Pearl

Chapter Two: Graduation

Chapter Two: Graduation

I sat on my prayer mat praying; I’d only just woken up for Farj in time.

Of course it was typical of me to run late for everything; this only proved my point I’d run late for my graduation if I didn’t hurry up and recite the prayers properly.

I was Miah Bohurler the perfectionist and if I didn’t do something right I’d just start over until I finally did it properly. This was probably why I was the only one in my family graduating high school; all my siblings had left or got married and got their GED.

I on the other hand wanted more then what most Muslim girls wanted; having a family was the furthest thing from my mind. And I just thought all guys were haram even if they were a so called “Decent Muslim Man,” who loved his faith and valued his family.

I wanted to train and be a nurse to go back to my home country Syria and help the injured being killed in the middle of the Syrian Uprising.

Thousands of women and children were being killed because of it and I wanted to help; but it was something I never dared to tell anyone.

Apparently it wasn’t the place for a woman and so no one knew my little secret; only Allah did and I knew he supported me in the fact I’d already got early admission to ColumbiaUniversity pre-medical. Ashokrulillah…

Standing in line to receive my diploma I felt like butterflies were flying around my stomach; I was going to get this piece of paper I’d been working for so long. The late nights studying and having little sleep had paid off; I couldn’t help but think my Papa would be proud of me.

I was his perfect pearl always and he’d always said I’d be more then a house wife…

“Miah Bohurler has received an advance diploma in academia,” I heard the principal call out through the microphone.

I stood up on stage looking at my old principal’s extended hand; it was so like white men to forget I couldn’t shake their hands.

Finally he placed it back at his side realising I wasn’t going to shake and handed me my diploma.

Standing in the centre I posed for a photo with the photographer; looking out into the crowed I could see my Mom and step-dad they weren’t even looking at me. Instead they were yelling at one another having another fight in public; why did they have to spoil my moment and be so haram?

La hawla wala quwata illa billah family….Argh!

They were both in such a mood we never even went out for lunch to favourite restaurant like had been promised; instead my step-dad drove us home. I went upstairs to my room and could hear the yelling from down stairs; I was even sure it could be heard from the poor neighbour’s house next door.

That was it I’d had enough of their bickering; I grabbed my handbag from the stand next door to the front door and left the house.

I didn’t even tell them where I was going it was just so unlike me to do such a thing, if they couldn’t make this day special then I was just going to have to do it myself….