We went to The Mall of Qatar the other day, I spotted an artificial blossom tree which made me realise: it is officially May.

I have this single, disconnected memory where I recall being very young, sitting on the floor and holding what I can only guess now must’ve been a deck of cards. The cards had names of the months on them. I don’t remember the game nor the purpose the cards served, but I’ll always remember the card for May, the month I was born. It had a blossom tree with pale pink flowers and a lamb beneath it. That visual has never disappeared, so I’ve always associated blossom trees, fluffy little lambs, and the return of greenery with May.

This May will be the first time I fast. The last time Ramadan fell in May was the year I was born. Can you imagine that? It has been almost three decades since Ramadan was in May.

This will be my first Ramadan in a Muslim country. I have no idea what to expect, but I know, or least like to think it’ll be much easier than the previous four or so years have been. Those who live in western countries will understand what I mean; I don’t envy you guys this year.

Anyway, the change in weather (40°C this week) has bought many changes with it, one of which is that I apparently talk in my sleep. It’s true, see for yourself:

Time: in the dead of night.
Me – This is your ink on my hand *puts palm in his face*.
Him- Hain??
Me – This is your ink on my hand.
Him – No it’s not.
Me- Yes it is.
Him – How’s it my ink?
Me – You put it on me last lesson.
Him – I wasn’t in your last lesson.
Me – Yes you were, you were in the corner.
Him- What was I doing?
Me – Messing around as always.

Considering I have never, ever sleep talked before, this is all a little too Lady Macbeth-esque for me. Just pray for me, okay? Hubby laughs at me every day just because I talked in my sleep once. But at least I was more entertaining than him asking me at 5am, ‘Do you wanna go to the mall?’ Or screaming in my face for five minutes followed by, ‘I thought you were a jinn’, or turning over to ask me ‘Who are you? My brother? Okay.’ Is sleep talking contagious? Because it makes sense now…

Also, I don’t know how to spell anymore. All these years of teaching and seeing misspelled (misspelt?) words is wreaking havoc in my life. Half of my marking time is spent on google checking if it’s bony or bonney, weird or wierd or if something can be done oftenly. Combine this with my extremely vivid dreams, from which I wake up feeling as though I’ve been dead to the world and sleep walking as well as talking, and you’re left with an accurate foreshadowing of my death. I can just imagine it, me on my death bed screaming, “This is your spelling mistake on my blog post!”

I really miss family right now. I miss the banter with my sisters and I miss my nieces. We are all super busy (it’s May after all, exams and all) and we haven’t had the chance to catch up properly. We keep missing each other. I miss spending hours video calling my 3 year old niece only for her to end the call with, “Yaya you come to my house now okay, we watch *insert movie title which she has already seen 50 times*.” I miss being in the middle of a room full of family and just laughing until your sides split but I know this is temporary. For now, we are making do with snapchat and whatsapp messages.

Having said that, I don’t feel homesick. I just miss my loved ones. Luckily my husband has about five personalities so…