the weather warms in cairo

lying here in bed, in maadi, in cairo, in egypt, eyes, half closed under my coverlet with what's come to be known as its distinct cairo smell, i suddenly and without warning was transported back to 120 prospect hill road-- my place of birth.

this room is nothing like that one-- full of egyptian-style-overly-ornate furniture, shuttered windows including the floor to ceiling one which leads to the balcony, the sounds of the bawaab below as he sweeps the entry to our building for the first of many times today just following the call to prayer.

and yet, with my eyes half-closed and the birds chirping in the background and a rare cairene moment of little traffic and only the voices of humans and nature, i can feel springtime in Connecticut. i can remember that room at 120 prospect hill road, the twin size bed nestled in the corner, the winterized windows half cracked as spring breaks, the smell of freshly cut grass, perhaps, slowly seeping in. and birds chipring- always birds chirping there at 120.

And then i think of the badmitton net, sunk into the side yard, next to the pussy willow tree. Sometimes dad would pull out the grill, position is close by and i can see grandma and grandpa in the white and green lawn chairs, mom back and forth to the kitchen with burgers and vegetarian snacks for me. The lawn furniture, faded at best in memory and color.