One thing that I will never forget is how my grandmother would pour the tea from the small istikana into the saucer, to cool it down, before bringing it close to my lips so that I may take a sip. I imagine the room brightly lit from the sunlight streaming through the Ottoman-era shutters in the bedroom upstairs. There is a terrace adjacent to it. A picture of my mom depicts her atop this same terrace, her hair wet from a recent bath. She might have just had my second brother, or the first.

I also remember the long ka’ak my grandmother would dip inside the tea before handing it to me. This bag of ka’ak would usually come from Damascus, either after my aunt or grandmother’s return, or as a gift from someone visiting us in Cyprus. The warm tea would soften the bread, and give more flavor to it. Those rituals are some of my most cherished childhood memories with the woman I most love after my mother. Her mother, and after her, my aunt. I spent so much time with my aunt growing up that she’s become inseparable from what defined me as I grew into who I am today. I don’t call her as much as I should, after we both left Cyprus.

We often think of ourselves as weavers, weaving with the threads that we gather throughout our journey on this path called life. And the carpet we weave is our masterpiece that tells a story, our story, from our perspective. But could it be said that we are a woven piece ourselves? Woven by those who come and go, or remain, in our lives? If I were to be woven, then I contain many threads woven into me by my aunt in the first rows that make up the piece that I am.

Everyone passing through our lives can weave into the loom holding us, with their unique colors and different qualities of yarn. Some come with beautiful vibrant colors, others are masterful in their little touches, while others add a mending touch… with colors that may appear simple, or with threads that disappear between the intricate patterns, but in actuality holding together the rest of the strings to prevent a deep hole from peeking through.