Once, a close friend, who was a colleague of mine, was leaving Baghdad for good to study abroad. We had a farewell party in the office for him. Jill was present. When we started fare welling him, I was standing next to him. He was crying and made me cry. I couldn’t endure this moment.Then Jill, who is part of this family, hugged both of us and started crying. She did that because she is one of us. She feels what we feel. She becomes sad when we are sad and becomes happy when we are happy.
Jill, I miss you and I am prying for you day and night. I can’t sleep every night. I just think of you and your bravery. I really miss you, Jill. I wish I can call you as I used to before you were kidnapped. I hanged your picture on the cabinet near my desk. Do you remember it? It is the one that is full of the Arabic newspapers that you used to read when you come to see us. These papers miss you, miss your delicate hands, miss you experience in reading the Arabic language, miss the intelligent brain that analyze what is written in them.
The plants in the office are sad. They are pale and almost dead. Come and see them. They will re-live when you come back. Please come back. even the dishes in the kitchen miss you. Um M, W, and Um H feel they cannot make food because you are not there to tell them that it is “Kullish Tayyib”[very delicious]. I miss you and I wish I am kidnapped instead of you.
Jill, my mother is feeling terrible because of what happened to you. Do you remember when I told you what she said? “Tell Jill to be careful. She should be very careful these days.” Do you remember what you told me to tell her?? You asked me to hug her and tell her “I will, inshallah”. Do you remember when we chatted via the webcamera when you where in Cairo? We were so happy that day. I still have the photo you sent me of you standing near the pyramids and in front of Abu Alhawl in Egypt.
I was about to return back to smoking when you were kidnapped but I remembered you saying “Mosh Kwayis”. Do you remember how happy you were when I told you I quit smoking last year? “Ahsan, ahsan. Sihitak…” do you remember these words. I will never forget them. I can hear you saying them.
