The Sweetness of Sentimentality

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A few days ago I shared a story about myself with my husband. I told him how when I was little (like age 4 and under) I used to like to go to sleep with a bottle. But instead of milk, I liked to have orange juice in it. I even once woke in the middle of the night and when I found my bottle empty, went to the kitchen and tried to refill it myself, making a mess in the process of course.

Last night he came home bearing a “late” anniversary present for me. I don’t fault him for this because culturally, anniversaries being celebrated are not as big here as they are in the West (at least in our age group; perhaps this has shifted in the younger generations). The gift was a cute green thermos, like the kind a child would take to school here, with three liter-sized boxes of my favorite juhayna fruit cocktail juice. He said he got this for me so I can relive that feeling of my childhood of going to sleep with my juice bottle. He made sure to point out on the name tag strapped to the thermos, that he had written “habibti mushy”.

I swear I never had gotten a more clever, personal, creative and thoughtful gift than that. I am drinking from it now.

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