TGoS

It was a not-very-cold snowy day in Egypt, where I was raised as a baby; as a Jewish-born Egyptian. Why was it not very cold? Because spring was nigh with its powers of green glitter will be scattering around this country of alluring pyramids. Snow had rarely been around since everyone saw the pyramids' crests filled with snow at the beginning, since these years ago by of dreadful heat, then covered up the snow again. The whole pyramid. Especially the golden sand of Sahara.

Everyone was preparing the birthday of spring by decorating strings of lychnis, poppies and chrysanthemums; wreaths, with big flowers, hand-made out of fresh leaves from forests of Egypt were hanging (near windows too). Children were surrounding the village, giggling, and playing their green ribbons to encourage their parents with their faithfulness to welcome spring. The food was traditional and cordial too. Everyone was welcoming the season more than welcoming winter, regardless of its magic is more powerful and green than winter's blue and white power – which I don't like about it neglected and being sad.

I, Dor (my name clearly means "generation" in Hebrew), was at my childhood phrontistery, a white cottage with a brown thatch, above with a sign saying "MADRASA/SCHOOL." My school had corners were the same wreaths (that I sat at my desk 13. The total desks are 20), looking down with a neutral expression. I was aged 8; I was shy, I was close-mouthed, and I was very wise. Every of my mate were not wise like me. They were not mature like me. Mouths were moving up and down. "Hurting" kids was a derision. Typically, Itamar, my phrontistery's snide mate whom I hated, loved making me look stupid and an evil doer. I was only child who was sensible. My teacher, Mudaris Hakim, arrived with a glare before everyone's eyes for our noise and wilderness. Mates dashed to their seats so quick. Panting and panting. Laughing and tittering. I still have not stirred up from my chair. Mudaris Hakim's stern expression adjusted into a smile. She began to declare; I began to be attentive.

"Good morning, children," said Mudaris Hakim.

"Good morning, Mudaris Hakim," muttered the children.

Mudaris Hakim turned to the board and started to write about this year's season.

"Children, this season is the 100th anniversary of celebrating spring in Egypt. We decorated our school, for which I am proud for your creative work, in honour for the Pharaoh greeting spring back," announced Mudars Hakim.

I listened everything about the spring's returning, but everyone wasn't mentioning about winter's goodbye. My little hands were dancing on my desk (someone's were). I was filled with rejoicing of the returning but not completely yet. Then, Mudaris Hakim said the following about the spring projects. "On that note, how is everyone doing with their spring presentations? The Pharaoh would like to see them."

I lightly trembled about my presentation I have not begun to start. Bitten my lower lip in panic. My eyes were blinking terribly. Mudaris Hakim called my name,

"Dor?"

I knew she called me out, thinking that I have not begun. I gasped gently.

"How's your project coming along?," asked Mudaris Hakim.

I hid myself on my desk from that question was making me look bad. I began to move my quiet, shaking mouth to the following,

"My…my p-project?"

"Yes? Are you and your partner organized to demonstrate?"

That was the worse question that was starting to ache me. Nobody was working with me. I still hid myself on my desk,

"My…p-partner? Umm…?"

Mudaris Hakim's temper I peeked wasn't happy. But she wasn't harsh to me; she knows that my project was disregarded. She squatted just to look at my concealed face. She asked,

"Do you still not have a partner?" snapped Mudaris Hakim.

"Dor, this is not a small and an easy project in this big, historic season here. This is the 100th anniversary of honouring the most beautiful season of all. And the Pharaoh has honoured all of us Egyptians and Jews to beautify every village to please him and the season's returning. To make the world new, to grow our food. Fruits. Vegetables. And flowers back. And you haven't even started! Haven't you even started, young man?"

I heard every question, made my mouth tremble and nearly casted my tear off from my little eyes. But then I heard my mates said under their breaths, right to their little ears of their friends. Itamar grinned. At my stupidity, which I had lost all of my penetration.

"Mudaris Hakim is making one of us work with him again, isn't she?"

I quietly spoke, "I…"

"It's not like he can make anything special right in front of his own hands."

"I…"

"He can't. He's never good for everything," Itamar scorned.

"I… of course I have started. I have actually planned something for spring for two days, by myself. Because it's a… a surprise."

Itamar, lying back at his chair, scoffed, "Yeah! A surprise that will be something reprehensible."

Mudaris Hakim clamoured, "That's enough, Itamar!"

I continued, "No… it… won't. This surprise will be… uh… im-impressive. Y-yes."

The unforeseen strident toll scared me lightly with a gasp below my throat. It was the mudrasa's silver bell. I casted a quick look from the window are shivering penguins – waiting for us. I could even see my mama in her hemmed blue cloak with star patterns in the blizzard of glaciation. The bell rang early in this soon-to-be-gone winter. Maybe of the blizzard couldn't hold with the snowflakes despite like a feather fall. I was still sitting on my desk, as the others were happy and exuberant waving their arms. Getting ready to leave, Mudaris Hakim was subduing the children, alerted, "Alright children, the bell has rung early today because of the bitter coldness outside we couldn't stay! Mamas and papas are standing back outside for you! Remember to bring your assignments for the festival! The Pharaoh will arrive in two days, entailing our lovely work!"

I was carefully dragging my legs and feet to the floor – bothered – my neck couldn't be raised from the floor. Mudaris Hakim stopped me looked at my dejected face. She placed her hand on my little left shoulder, concerned about my unfinished project,

"Are you sure you'll be ready, Dor? Working on your own cannot be easy. If you want to change your mind, I can still place you another group."

"Oh n-no. I have something planned up good, Mudaris Hakim. You'll see."

I smiled nervously at my teacher; Mudaris Hakim's expression looks worrying, but unwillingly agreed, "Well, alright then. Be careful about entering the blizzard. Your mama will protect you outside. The blizzard is consistently Egypt's worst enemy of the winter, just like last year."

"I will.," I replied. My expression turned back to dejection (bent lips to an arc), sighed, "Yeah. A good surprise. Of course. Bye Mudaris Hakim." I opened the door, suddenly was blown by the whistling and the gust of the blizzard. Snowflakes were dropping to the school's floor like silver white arrows. My mama was outside, she cried for me. I cried for her; I gestured my arm for Mama. I was blinded by the snowflakes in my eyelids, but I rubbed my right from the frozen tears to find her better. I could see her head and face, not nearly her whole body. When I returned home with Mama, I was outside at my garden, gazing the stars and the black clouds, frowning and sniffing. I held my legs to my chest and my arms around my knees, broken, "I can't go to the Spring Festival. No. I can't. I won't. A useless boy like me can never make anything historic for the most beautiful season in the world. The Pharaoh and the people of Egypt would… laugh at me… and- ". I stopped crying when I felt a soft snowflake touching my little nose. I slowly touched it and dropped it on the black sand. I stared at the bright stars again. When I, later, remembered; as I gape very deeply at the sky, about my Mama's words: of why God made these stars and made them twinkle, with powerful wishes. I nearly twinkled at the memory.

"Mama, is it true God made these stars above to give you wishes?"

Mama snuggled me, who loved stars, responded with a smile, "Yes. Once there was a time where we didn't exist, and we couldn't wish on them. But when God arrived to see his creation, the stars begin to emerge every night. With different sizes. And if you can hear him touching the stars, they began to twinkle. Listen."

I closed my eyes trying to listen the stars' harmony. Twinkling in the clouded sky like the tremendous green and purple cloak singing vertically or horizontally from the other side of the mountains, not, from Ancient Egypt. My face wasn't easy. I tried to hear them with my subtle ears, but I told Mama in a sad tone, "No I couldn't." My mama looked at me, putted my arm around me lovingly, with positive terms, "You listen better than anybody I know." I still remember those memorable words. So memorable to me that I could remember in my head, now. I closed my eyes again, to hear the harmony again, asked, "But all I hear is quiet. I'd rather see them. Do you think if I wish hard enough, God would let me see them?". Mama did a little frown at my question, she replied, "God thinks it's better to save your wishes, Dor…" she gave a smile," … for something that you really need."

Puzzled, I asked again, "Don't you mean I really need my own eyes?"

Mama laughed quietly, "No, not you. You're too special for that."

"I am?"

"Who else could've discovered the entire star shifting without denting the body and surface? Only one little boy's little hands and feet are vigilant enough to do that. And I bet if you try again, you would be apt to hear the stars twinkle at every darkness. You are a special son, my Dor. Don't worry. You won't need your eyes to find your skerry of stars in your world."

Mama's supportive words were like God's message to every child to all of Egypt. She could be God's wife. The wife of God. A messenger to all the children. She could be the whisper in any ear. She is my shining star in the dark sky.

I stared, morosely, to the dark sky. Listening to the song above. I haven't moved from my garden. The night's breezes were trail. Every night was hush. My eyes just blinked and moved, I didn't remember why the stars' twinkles are caring and useful, so I morosely said, "Twinkles. What good are twinkles? You cannot wish on twinkles.," I, at once, stood up begin to pray God from the clouds, wondering. "I don't know if you are out there in the clouds, and all the thick snow.," sighed in depression, "I don't think you are.," But I tried to be good, tried to pray more positively, "But… if you are, then… I," I closed my eyes to listen God's voice," … I wish, I hope, I dream, I pray. By the rules of God, light my path for me. To break the dolour of winter. Pl…Please." I slowly knelt down the black sand; breaking down my little voice; beginning to cast my tear in hesitation," I… I just want to show I can do something… for once. Everyone else says I cannot. But… But I-I just…," I stopped. I hesitated. I had no more words to pray, despairingly. I began to cry with one tear. It rolled down my cheek and then let go to fly down. My tear slowly glaciated solid like a little blue-silver pearl. Falling downwards to my knee. Ding! I gasped. Made a surprised face while I heard a twinkle, I had put my hand on my soft cheek, where I stroked my thin invisible streak of tears that had fallen off. I looked at my knees where my tear laid. I was truly surprised about what I had created, with curiosity, "My tear just froze into... a snowflake.", I looked at my little hand slowly, my palm looked a little grey or little silver. I became indisputably aware, for my tear did twinkle on my knee, but that it's impression, essential and exaltation gave me an idea to show the Pharaoh about. Tears turning into snowflakes and stars; shooting stars and comets; feathers and crystals. I knew what to create, to vary humanity to love winter in Ancient Egypt - by using a little branchlet to re-create my snowflake the most historical project. Bending very close to draft, stroking little edges, I didn't nictitate to miss – haply twice. Blow. The wind helped me by its gust, beneath my little protective skin; a call by a comet's silver-white glitter voice, that I glanced up, and the body of wish, wisdom, and its blue hands of regard. God was finally there, by all his miens. The voices helped me to continue to find my own path of careful coldness, starting by my little hands and feet. I drew the edges quickly; points and sides; sides and points. Twirled my hand with a branchlet to draw a little circle, dance within the midst of tiny, but blest ice. Looking at my snowflake, I completely smiled. I sighed, tossed the branchlet – timidly to the sand. I spread my mouth, to smile more at my project, with five blue-white arms of hope held out, to thank me. I closed my eyes one more time to thank God and speak to him with moral sense.

"Dor!" cried Mama. I did not know she opened the door, "What are you doing out there? It's freezing! Come inside, son!"

Mama came at the right time. "Mama! M-Mama! Look!" I cried. I showed and told her with fervour about my gift.

It has been two days. At last, the birthday of spring. Nature spread every white sand to strike carefully, by a single touch of green. As of the Spring Festival.

The sky was beginning to be august and radiant because of spring's power, as well as the vanilla-yellow sun's rupture of yellow rays. The festival was dressed up with a brown grandstand; with shamrock green and yellow curtains, hanged with irises; platforms below were knotted green ribbons; pillars, aligned, with loti beside each other. People, even my school, were, attentively, ready with their projects for this moment. Children, with thousands of and with eagerness, were in front of their mamas and papas to commemorate spring as well with crowns of leaves and flowers. Silence. Trumpets played a traditional fanfaronade mellifluously, meaning the Pharaoh is coming. Mama and I were nearly inside the festival, to my class, but hurried up towards the middle to meet him. "Come on, Mama!" I panted, holding Mama's hand to not pass. Cheers were hoisting. I roughly saw one or two feathered shuwts from the heads. Bumping hard to get to the front from people. I finally get to see Mudaris Hakim, and the Pharaoh and his gold yellow and lapis lazuli blue throne. With servants, who are fanning the Pharaoh [HK1] with yellow monogrammed feathered shuwts calmly; carrying his throne, to place over there to the grandstand. I loved the Pharaoh's nemes crown, shining in front of us, with blue stripes, which in some way I remember (after), with his usekh around his neck and his false beard. At the grandstand, he stood up proudly, holding his arms up, to celebrate spring for everyone; and with his noble, Fahim al-Amin (the intelligent and truthful), more crying would be lasted. The Pharaoh thankfully said in his brave, coherent and calm voice, "Citizens of Ancient Egypt! I thank you all very much for your work on spring's returning! After a long and cold winter, it is wonderful to see every boy and girl, every Egyptian and every Jew, to bring me pleasingly historical ideas to make this season shine! Now, we can only use one as the centennial hieroglyph, but – "

"Wait!" I cried immediately.

I ran into the middle to the front of the Pharaoh's grand throne, raised my arm to be a little curt; wanted to see him looking at me. Murmurs and whispers of leeriness and fear from mouth to mouth was all I heard. I looked at Mudaris Hakim and my mates, with troubled faces even they whispered too like,

"He's here?"

"He didn't bring anything for the festival?"

"I think he forgot?"

Mudaris Hakim was bewilderingly surprised of what I was doing here in the middle. She blinked fast without a rhythm. Her words were only one, my name, with unsureness, "Dor?" I heard a call from her while looking at the Pharaoh. I began to talk to him for forgiveness that I wasn't scared to stop, "Do forgive my presence, Pharaoh, but it's just I have been working so hard, please. I have a gift for spring too." The Pharaoh and Fahim's faces were scarily stern yet momently interested. The Pharaoh was kind to let me see my gift. He said in gentleness, "May we see this gift, boy?" I was walking up to the grandstand, but I wasn't scared for my gift's essentialism of warmth of coldness to be shown for the Pharaoh. Murmurs and whispers were silent. I kept my steady face going to the Pharaoh's face and throne. Climbing up eight steps. Climbing up seven steps. Five steps. Two steps. Then one step. I made to the top. Then, I showed my gift to the Pharaoh's eyes from my little warm hands, with its image and its glory. I was softly breathing. The Pharaoh quietly laughed a little of that's my only gift, Fahim reacted, by his reaction, was bemused, "You brought snow, boy? Just one?" I shook my head up and down to his short question. "Why would you bring snow to the Spring Festival?" he questioned to understand. I answered with little stature, looking down to save my gift, "I-It's not snow. I made a star."

"A star? But it doesn't look like one?", quietly retorted the Pharaoh.

But I stroke back with standing, "Maybe it doesn't look like one outside, but it is inside. This star speaks of winter." I showed everyone to my gift with its speaking of its treatment. With full stature. "I can't see how God makes the stars up in the night's sky, just like I can't see how God makes spring the most beautiful second season of four, just because humankind didn't exist. We didn't exist. But I can hear it all, and I heard his frozen tears, in snow, twinkling just like the stars do every night. So, they should be able to grant wishes too, shouldn't they? Winter has been giving us warm gifts and wishes all this time, by its blue hands, and humankind has been ignoring it, this made God very sad. Celebrating spring did not make God very sad is good, but winter cannot be all bad if it gives us these. It maybe cold and hurtful and dark, but what is cold and hurtful and dark is unawareness from our heads, which doesn't mean it's cruel. Maybe… maybe God is very sad that nobody loves winter's powers. His first blue season. So… maybe we need to make wishes on the winter's snow. Just like how we wish upon the night's stars. Maybe then we can make winter happy again. We already made and had a happy spring, happy summer, and happy autumn, but can't winter be happy too? Because winter is important to humankind. Even if it seems useless, however; we can make our God happy. So…." Fahim's hand lifted to stop me, in a trice, expressing the rightness. Fahim was starting to cry from his broken mouth. But he didn't, thus far. He dropped his arm he lifted, wondered to look with a bit broken voice, "May I see your wishing star, please?" I gave my gift to Fahim to his old hand. Fahim and the Pharaoh peeked deeply to my gift. Shining from its white glint points and edges from everywhere from its heart. The Pharaoh began to blink and let go his tears to its beauty of whiteness and blueness. He rubbed his tears gently to see clearly. The winter's gift of warmth and benevolence shone the Pharaoh's eyes. Was the Pharaoh crying? Maybe he loves my gift? The Pharaoh smiled, looked at me, clearing his broken throat asked my name, "What is your name, boy?"

I answered, "Dor." The Pharaoh and Fahim looked at each other and they were going to like my name because my name has the only meaning to me, by themselves. The Pharaoh looked back towards me with an offering he asked, "Could you make me some more, Dor?" I excited my gasp that the Pharaoh said my name, my little palms were joined together with excitement. I replied with one nod. The Pharaoh stood next to me to show my gift as Egypt's centennial hieroglyph. Cheers and cries were echoing with worship from below. Mama was smiling when I looked at her nearly. Mudaris Hakim was so clapping of me, my mates, and Itamar, were clapping for me too with more hosannas. They were so proud of me. The celebration was the most glorious event of Ancient Egypt's coming times and history. Winter's blessings had at last been discovered. From then on, white tears of cherish were gentle, as of now warm winter. Children could dance. Children could see outwith the glaze of my power of warmth. The generator and the guard of warm snowy ice. And a new kind of glitter from God could bring everybody sweet dreams.