Is there anything more inviting than a spot of shade on a hot summer day? Recently my mind collided with the thought of it while I plodded through a sun-soaked, mid-morning jog. Beads of salty sweat dripped down my forehead, through furrowed eyebrows into my unprotected eyes. Beyond the sting, I saw a willow’s shade. I ran to it.
Its canopy sheltered me from the sun’s ravenous reach, and its cooled air soothed my burning lungs. I lingered there; I didn’t want to move. Beneath this shade, I felt cared forand safe. Everything about it was good.
Some Muslim girls refer to their veils as their shade. My friend Ikraam wears hers very responsibly.