Of course I miss the iftar parties, the rush to get to the masjid before the taraweeh parking ran out, the hugs and the recitation of my own college classmates during long hours of prayer. That’s all a given.
But in Ramadan 2020, I learned I can pray 8 rakaat of taraweeh all on my own, and enjoy it because I can do all my favorite surahs in whatever order I want. I found out that I can really focus on my duas when it’s just me by myself in my room, confiding and confessing and lining up all my wishes like shooting stars to Ar-Rahman. I can stay up past the twilight hours all the way till dawn during the 21st, 23rd, 25th, 27th, and 29th nights, high off one cup of chai and the voices of my favorite Quran reciters, praying for all that’s good.
(My duas are like dandelion seeds. There are so many, many flowers to grow.)
I can teach a tafsir class with two of my best friends, and we can spend a whole hour talking about nothing and laughing at each other and screaming BE QUIET STOP SINGING LOOK AT THE SLIDES ALREADY while planning, and still somehow act like wise teachers (mostly) when the class actually starts. I can give pep talks to youth groups. I can give my friends advice and be given advice in turn.
I can hear my own thoughts more clearly. I can gain better self control through fasting. I can give up movies and music and Buzzfeed Unsolved for 30 days. I can let go of the things that filled me with clutter, sift through what’s important – hold onto that – and let everything else go, so that I’m suddenly so much lighter.
I can read 20 pages of Quran in a day. I can pray my five prayers, my sunnah prayers, and taraweeh too. I can donate to the causes I’m passionate about. I can look at who I am and work on who I want to become.
I can. I did. We did.
Ramadan Mubarak, 2020.