Ever since Zaf went to camp, I would receive a call each night; except for the days when he was out in the field, or came back late from the range. But I was always prewarned not to expect his calls...so I was quite prepared in advance not to hear from him.
For this, I am very thankful.
I sound like a high-strung mum, unwilling to let my child go...or to some, he is some 'poor mummy's boy' who is still firmly tied to the apron strings. Either way, I don't care much about what others say.
Do you know how much it means to me...to know that my child is safe and sound?
Even if it is a simple hello...or to a list of things he did at camp, I cherish the few short minutes I hear his voice.
It does not only apply to Zaf....whenever I am away from the family, I make it a point to speak to my children at least once a day... I need to hear them...to touch base.
It does not take much to keep the channels of communication open.
I would be the saddest person on earth, if my children no longer want to speak to me.
So thank you, Allah. I am grateful.
Alhamdulillah.
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