Ceramic Memories

Ceramic Memories

Faris Shamma, Obscure Images columnist

Besides ourselves and our treasured items, not many things have remained with us through two separate immigrations and many house moves. We had to drop friends, occupations, and dreams; almost anything that we didn’t really need in our next move, we left behind. These paintings, though, these ceramic works of art that are older than me, have stayed with us all throughout this time.
It started when my mom was thriving in her clinic in Syria, working hard to treat all those who sought her help. She was a pediatrician, and it just so happened that a painter came with his ill son for her help. There was a problem with his eye, and he had felt great pain in it for a long time. Seeing how much in pain he was, my mom focused on treating him. After an untold number of previous doctors had misdiagnosed him, it all worked out in the end. Happy to see that his son had finally recovered, the painter felt that he was indebted to my mother and he waited until it was her birthday to draw her two ceramic paintings.
Staying with us on the Mediterranean Coast, the Arabian Peninsula, and the airy valleys of New York, they have been in our presence ever since as a symbol of the endurance of our family. True, they aren’t of much monetary value and they don’t make up a really big part of our lives, but regardless, they hold us together in a way.