“Of course it looks good on you. My tastes are timeless!” – Aunt Jazmine

I arrived at NYC with my brother Oct 2014, thinking that I’d be here for two weeks before I’d have to go back home to Oman. I had packed thin luggages with no regard for how I would dress but more what I would experience. About a week into my stay I get a call from my mother explaining to me how I am going to spend the next 8 years here.  Mildly shocking, I’m aware. I was half-delighted and a quarter-anxious. I now had the responsibility to enroll in a high school, find a place to stay, navigate my way through the city, register to vote, register for the draft, get insurance, a bank account and warmer clothes. Amidst the frenzy of it all, the stress was beginning to gnaw away at the backwashed recesses of my skull; like the pounding hammer unyielding in its contact with the  anvil. The clanging seconds ticked and chipped away at the defense of self-doubt and esteem not knowing if a native born immigrant was going to succeed all on his own.

But anyways, I got cold. Winter was nearing and I had neglected to pack any warm clothes with me; the fact constantly being brought up by the piercing cold winds of NY. A meek grey sweater tried its hardest to keep me warm but it proved to be less than ideal. Since I was always running around doing one thing or the other, shopping for a jacket or coat was never on top of my priorities. Fortunately, my aunt, who lived not too far, came to know of my situation and offered me her son’s jacket. Ever since he moved out a little over a year ago, it was just sitting in her closet. I said my thank yous and I’ll always remember yous and finally had protection from the cold.

The grey sweater is from Oman. I’ve had it since I was 16 but never wore it as it RARELY gets any colder than 80 degrees. The jacket is my “first” real taste of NY and of a new life as well. I always wanted to live in the US or any western country for that matter. What brown kid doesn’t!? I’ve known that the Middle East didn’t have a lot of bright perspectives offered in higher education so I was always prepared to bid my life and my family adieu. However I was not prepared to have it thrust upon me all at once where, what was supposed to be a 2 week vacation, extended indefinitely. Still I’m grateful. Having to become a self functioning adult by every facet of the word is hard enough when you’re a native; I lived my entire life in Oman. I knew nothing about where I was but I knew where I was going. I learned a lot of valuable lessons and a handful of skills that a person can only come to learn when living on their own, such as how to cook, do laundry, file paperwork, understand the bureaucratic mess and, most importantly, how to ask for help. If my aunt hadn’t come thru and given me her son’s jacket, I would’ve spent the better part of my productive time sick and upset. She let me know that her taste in fashion is superior to mine and ALSO that I should never hesitate to ask for help.

It’s been three years since I’ve left Oman and one since I last saw Aunt Jazmine. I hope she’s doing well and I hope my aunt is too. I’ve held these two items in my closet for a long time now and it is reflective of how far I’ve come, geographically and spiritually and how dumb I was not expecting it to get cold in NY.