In Raub. It was fun. Really. Don’t get me wrong, we were just hot.
Eid had come and gone. This year’s Eid was not as exciting or as meaningful as I had hoped it to be – although, more likely my expectations were heightened a little ridiculously. Somehow, in the recesses of my brain, I thought that it being the last Eid with my family (that came off a lot more morbid than I intended it to be) it was going to be all meaningful and touching etc.
Instead, aside from the morning prayers, which I always like, the rest of the days were pretty much like other festive seasons. Relatives visiting and eating. Food I mean, not eating relatives. There were lots of food, including my aunt’s famous nasi dagang. I may have put on all the weight I had lost during fasting month just in that sitting alone, but I do not care. Some exceptions must be made in life for happiness’ sake.
I always feel guilty when I admit to myself that well, you know, Eid could have been better. Facebook is filled with countless of albums from my friends accounting how brilliant their Eid was. My Eid was meh.
Perhaps I’ve been hanging around this cat too often, I’m picking up his grumpeh moods too.
I brought it up with my mum, she reckons it might be because we did not bake Eid cookies this year. Or cook enough. Or hang up fairy lights. Because really, it is fairy lights that maketh the festival. I reckon it’s because we’re boring old farts who have lost the excitement that children seem to have for the holiday.
Still, it did not stop me from arguing with Eizwan on which house we’re going to spend the first Eid after we get married. So far, the compromise we’ve come up with is a flip of the coin – and might be our final and practical solution.
Eid Mubarak everyone. Hope yours was a better one than mine.