Last night it felt like a true iftar. It happened like it always used to happen, all my life. As Baba came back from Europe, we had the very first family iftar of this Ramadan. All of us made the pre-Iftar dua together, led by Baba in his familiar style and wording (he pretty much says the same things. Thanks to my experiences of 21 years, I can complete his sentences in my head even before he finishes). The menue was all complete with ma's boot, peyaju, muri, lebur shorbot (and some annoying healthy items). Its amazing what a single missing family member can do.
Yet, I know we will be having more of those episodes in the years to come. There has to come a time when those episodes become normal, lasting for a lifetime.
And that saddens me.