Kismet

Photographer - Tobi Brun

The concept of fate was deeply ingrained in my childhood. Growing up in a Muslim household, my parents would always say that everything happens for a reason, it was all God’s will. It was a pretty simple concept to grasp at the age of 8, it boiled down to all of the good things being rewards while the bad things were meant to make you a stronger person.

At the time I never really gave it much thought, I was just a kid, I was more focused on Monster High dolls and stealing clothes from my sister.

As I grow older, the idea of fate occasionally flits around my mind. Some days it’s comforting thoughts to know that there is always going to be something out there waiting patiently for me until it’s my time. It takes away some of the overwhelming pressure that constantly plagues me to make the right decision. On other days, the idea of fate is almost insulting, knowing that all of your decisions were predestined and predictable and there's no way out of it.

Honestly, I’m not sure if I believe in fate. 

—

My memory is something I pride myself on, it’s surprisingly accurate but only for stupid things. Song lyrics, artists' names, and small details from events take a decent portion of my brain space. However, one of my biggest specialties is remembering people's names. My siblings find it a bit odd that I’m able to recall their friend's names based on a few details and the mention of the name maybe once or twice. My friends find it especially weird that I’m able to remember almost all of the people I went to high school with who were in my grade. That’s saying a lot since my school is one of the biggest in the state, with my graduating class amassing almost 750 students.

In truth, I’ve never given much thought to my memory - it’s simply a part of who I am. Yet, my mind is cluttered with trivialities, leaving me yearning for the ability to recall things that truly matter.

—

I never considered myself a sentimental person. My older sister, on the other hand, gives out hugs and compliments with an easy smile while my skin crawls a little giving my friends a genuine compliment not under the guise of a joke. I still consider myself to be a genuine person, more in my actions than in my words, but I admire the people who are so willingly open and honest, they make me want to be more like them. There are times when I catch myself yearning for that innate sense of affection that seems to come so effortlessly to her.

Perhaps one day I’ll learn to embrace that side of myself too, to see the world through the lens of sentimentality and find joy in the simpler experiences.

—

Every year my friends and I drive to Duluth for a day trip to hike and sit on a beach. It usually turns into a chaotic trip, it’s almost impossible to wrangle almost 15 people. The trip to Duluth usually started in the early morning with excited chatter and constant bathroom stops. We split into three separate cars and began the three-hour trek. I drove the entire way which I preferred. The first two hours were quiet as everyone took advantage of the long drive and slept before we reached our destination. As we grew closer to our destination, the excitement began to pick up again.

The busy freeways eventually transformed into winding country roads, the only things going on for miles were cows and farmland. The roads were smooth and empty, the fluffy clouds painted a picturesque view, a feeling of serenity wrapped securely around us.

Eventually, we crossed into the land of no service, the calls to the other cars with our friends cutting out, leaving us disconnected from the outside world. Instead of feeling isolated, we embraced the freedom of the open road, rolling the windows down and blasting the music so loud I’m surprised we didn’t suffer from ear damage.

Amidst the wind blowing and the music, I caught a glimpse of Amina, a captivating presence known for her passionate expressions, as she opened the sunroof. Her face was illuminated by the clear sky stretching endlessly above us. In the backseat, Amna and Siham giggled like schoolchildren and I knew they were plotting something. A few moments later, I saw Siham, an admirably free-spirited and charming individual stand up and I immediately knew what she wanted to do. I slowed the car down, watching in the mirror as they lifted themselves into the sunroof, screaming the lyrics to Ethel Cain’s American Teenager as I drove down the empty roads. 

Usually, I’m a careful driver, scared to death of being pulled over, but my worries flew out the window along with Amina’s hat.  Exhilarated screams put a pause on the fun as I rolled to a stop so she could run out of the car to grab it. Amina came back grinning, holding the hat tightly as if she was scared it would blow away again.

—

The summer sun enveloped us as we gathered on Huda’s patio, relishing in the simple pleasure of sliced apples and easy conversation. We chatted about nothing, laughing loudly and pointing accusatory fingers about lord knows what. We sat and just enjoyed each other’s company, a nagging thought that our group would no longer be whole for three months as Huda, a perceptive and humorous individual, traveled abroad for school. During those three months, we texted and called as much as we could, but the choppy Zoom calls and awful service made the distance palpable.

That same summer, Yaa, whose aura mirrors the brilliance of the sun, and Amna, whose smile radiates joy to all around her, joined me on a trip to New York to visit my sister for a week, visiting landmarks, navigating the subway system and almost dying of heat exhaustion. Once the week was over, the desire for my bed was immense. After canceled flights and too many Uber to and from the airport, Amna, Yaa and I finally arrived home. As we waited for our luggage, the exhaustion from traveling finally caught up to me, however, it wasn’t stronger than the excitement I felt. We finally got the I’m Here text, and we rushed outside to spot the familiar Hyundai we knew and loved. Hurried feet carried us to the car, Amna reaching the driver's side first as she tugged open the door, pulling Huda out of the car. Our overexcited chatter filled the airport terminal, and other airport goers started, some with curiosity, others with annoyance as we took forever to finally pull out of the airport.

 A quick trip to McDonalds concluded our trip and we fell back into a routine of familiarity, making it as if the distance never existed in the first place.

—

The sky hung heavy with gloomy clouds, threatening to drench us as we wandered through Dinkytown. It was the eve of my first day of in-person college, and my friends and I were filled with excitement and anxiety. After enduring a year and a half of online school, we were dying to interact with new people and make up for lost opportunities from our freshman year. We also anticipated getting lost on the massive campus, and we planned a day to walk to each of our classes, practicing the route to ease some of the stress.

Despite my quiet objection, we found ourselves crossing the streets towards Raising Canes,         and my eyes connected with Yaa and Huda across the street. Yaa and I had known each other for years, meeting and becoming friends in high school. Strangely enough, my entire friend group attended the same high school, our paths hadn’t intersected until that moment, only speaking a couple of words in passing.

They joined us for lunch and we fell into an easy conversation, talking as if no time had passed. It was a curious twist of fate that had brought us together that day and it’s a moment we still reminisce about almost three years later. I often find myself pondering the what-ifs: What would’ve happened if I voiced my objections to Canes more strongly? What would’ve happened if we toured campus at a different time?

I try not to dwell much on the ‘what ifs,’ as the possibilities could consume my thoughts entirely. But that day, the forces of the universe were on my side.

—

The smell of dough and chicken permeates the air with a heavy scent, the sound of chatter and laughter filling my ears. I sat at the counter, listening to the different conversations being held around me, talks about work, and cheerful chatter. Muna, a girl whose wit and intelligence are unmatched, and Amal, a decisive and clever individual, argued about pizza dough and vegetables.

The Galentines setup this year was immaculate. Maeva, who possesses unparalleled warmth and sincerity, was kind enough to host and she set up the dining room. From the delicate streamers adorning the walls to the fragrant roses gracing the centerpiece, every detail spoke of love.

As the evening unfolded, the air buzzed with laughter and lighthearted banter. Conversations ebbed and flowed like gentle waves, carrying with them snippets of shared memories and inside jokes.

As I sat at the counter, surrounded by the comforting aroma of freshly baked dough and savory chicken, I couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment. In that moment, amidst the laughter and camaraderie, I knew that I was exactly where I was meant to be – surrounded by the warmth and love of my cherished friends.

—

Whether it’s the joy of squeezing one more friend into a packed car or the sheer absurdity of our heated debates over inconsequential matters, each memory holds a special place in my heart. These are the memories I hope to retain even when I’m gray and old. I always found my memory to be useless, not being able to remember equations for class but being able to remember the color of the dress my mom wore for my sister’s graduation. These are the details I want to keep.

As I grow older, the idea of fate plays constantly in the back of my mind, as I watch my friends argue over who gets shotgun, or yell aggressive compliments while someone feels insecure. All my actions, my decisions, and the other things I didn’t have control over led me here, to a place with people I cherish and plan my future with. I’m not sure if I believe in fate but I do believe in whatever is leading me here and maybe that makes me more of a sentimental person than I thought.

Furkan Addow is a recent graduate from the University of Minnesota Twin Cities where she obtained a BA and a minor in creative writing. She lives and works in Minneapolis, MN with her pet cat Sesame.