Once Upon a December

Most likely my last post of 2025

Squirrely did not like me watching him eat his breakfast. I get it. I also hate eating in front of people. They’re always asking me things like, “What slice are you on?”

I’ve always loved December.

As a kid, it signaled that my birthday was just around the corner. That was cause enough to celebrate; for it meant chocolate cake was in my future.

Interestingly enough, as I enter the final year of my thirties, I am not any less excited about turning a year older. I’m actually looking forward to turning 40. Plus, I have retained my childhood (childlike, may be more apt) love of chocolate cake, which helps. Mr. Rafia thinks I’m so predictable and insisted this year I cannot get “chocolate chocolate chocolate,” my preferred kind, but rather a regular chocolate cake with non-chocolate filling and icing. Ugh. He says it’s not kind to others for whom “death by chocolate” means a literal death.

Fine.

But more than just being closer to getting a cake that’s aaaaaall for meeeeeee (must be read in Gollum-voice), December is such a festive time of year, at least in the places I’ve lived.

Though my parents made very clear that our family does NOT celebrate Christmas, nor did we partake in even the secular traditions of an increasingly desacralized holiday, I still found much joy in other people doing so. The lights, the ornamented trees, the gingerbread houses, the jolly old portly man with a big white beard asking children what presents they wanted, the first two Home Alone films. People just seemed happier, too!

I think my parents secretly liked this time of year as well, as many a time my father would take a slightly longer way back home after attending a family gathering. There was one house in our neighborhood that went all out with the decorations each year, and we’d stop our car by the curb for a couple of minutes just to admire.

I didn’t see those few minutes of us sitting in my dad’s company car as family bonding time, but maybe they were.

Neither of my parents ever sat us down and gave us life lessons as I saw kids on TV getting from their TV parents. But at least I have these memories. My mom was always exuberant in the way only she could be, as she gazed at the lights. While my dad’s response was more subdued, as he wondered out loud how much their electric bill must be, the fact that he even stopped his car said just as much.

It has taken me decades to decipher my dad’s unspoken words, an in turn, my mom’s effusive praise.

…

One winter when I was in middle school, I decided to make what I called “My Winter Scene.” I took out a couple of sheets of paper from the family printer (a no-no!), cut out intricate snowflakes I had learned how to do in school, and taped them on to my bedroom window. When my dad inevitably discovered what I had done, he was livid. To him, it screamed “Christmas” and augured one of his worst fears for his children. Each winter thereafter was forever colored by that incident. Though there would be no more physical winter scenes, I would recall that moment each year almost like clockwork. Over the years, teenage resentment turned into a wry smile — and now I find myself longing for those days.

…

December gained in significance ten years ago when I got married on Christmas Day. I didn’t plan to get married on Christmas, but I did want to have my nikkah on a Friday. It just so happened Christmas that year happened to be the same day. You can bet Dad was celebrating that day! :)

Back in high school, I was convinced that if I ever did get married, it would be to a guy from Hyderabad who only wanted to marry me for my legal status. It wouldn’t be for my looks, that’s for sure. I ended up marrying a non-Hydro Hoosier I found on the internet (don’t worry, he’s Muslim and insists he’s a very good person).

Though it’s been ten years, I still can’t believe it.

So, yes, this time of year is full of memories. As you can imagine, I’m even more emotional this year.

…

Being the nostalgic person that I am, I like to do some sort of year-in-review post. I will save you all from a month-to-month breakdown, but I can’t let this year end without mentioning for one last time that 2025 has been the most challenging year I have faced. I’ve had a number of challenging episodes in my life, but those were private battles that didn’t impact my ability to earn an income.

Earlier this year, I went from being an ostensible “good Muslim” to one of those “bad Muslims,” was smeared in the press for it, and received my first ever death threat as a result.

As painful as this episode has been though, with some distance I can now say this: angering both right-wing and liberal Zionists has been my greatest accomplishment in life so far. Scaredy-cat-cow indecisive planning Rafia did that! I still can’t believe it.

Though the genocide continues, I know that my actions — my writing of all things! — set a chain reaction in my little circle of influence. Only God knows where that will lead. But the important thing to know is that every small act of doing the right thing creates a chain reaction. We can see its impact, even if there’s more to do. That the hasbara is no longer effective should not be discounted. God-willing the genocide will end one day and Palestine will see its liberation. We may not live to see it, but it will happen. That is what my faith teaches me.

In a weird way, this entire episode fulfilled a goal of mine: my writing made an impact. It got me a death threat instead of a book deal, but you know what? After getting a small taste of fame, a book deal is no longer a do-or-die goal of mine. I’m going to continue to write either way.

…

I am reminded by the verse from the Qur’an: “For truly with hardship comes ease” (94:5). Though I used to think it was “after hardship comes ease” and then was told by someone that it is “with,” both meanings are true. The first half of 2025 felt like “with;” the latter half has felt like “after.”

In May, after almost a decade of sharing walls with a neighbor, we moved into a home by the woods. Each day I wake up observing the sun rise as the birds sing their morning song from atop the mature trees in my backyard. It really is amazing. I still can’t believe this is our home. It’s not a large house, it doesn’t have a basement, doing the laundry is less than ideal, but I love it. Alhamdulillah.

In the summer, I started trail running, which I love because I get to be with my trees. But it also requires different ways of moving your body, and it’s a challenge. Road running is great, but nothing beats the trees.

In October, I ran my first half-marathon in over two and a half years. I was so afraid I’d not be able to do it again.

I haven’t weighed myself in maybe three months. While not as noteworthy as the other events, I have been obsessed with my weight since 2009 (although my weight has defined my self-worth for even longer). I haven’t fully accepted the weight I have gained, but not letting my day be dictated by a number on the scale was so needed. For the first time in fifteen years, my goal for the new year does not include “Lose X pounds before my birthday.” I mean, it would be great if I did lose some weight. But why do I want to be as thin as I can be? Was I truly happy at my lowest weight? What is it that I am really after?

Most important of all though, I fell in love.

With…

SQUIRRELS!

Yes, squirrels. If you think I am crazy (I am), I implore you to take some time out of your day to observe a squirrel. It will have to be from a distance though to get the full effect because most squirrels are afraid of humans.

Prior to moving into this house, I never had the chance to really observe a squirrel. Now, I wake up in eager anticipation for my squirrels to come down their dreys to break their fasts in our backyard. They are so cute, and so funny, and I love them.

Well, that was my 2025.

How was yours? What are you looking forward to in 2026?