Today I met Mercan, a high school friend of mine, in the prayer room of my university. She was there with her baby, who was only 2 months old.
I was really surprised. Mercan was a mum! And she looked really composed, mature and content.
I couldn’t help reflecting on myself. I was the same age as her, but I felt like I was still like a kid. I was still unable to look after myself properly, let alone others.
The other day, someone asked me if I wanted to get married. I hesitated.
Clearly I knew that I would like to get married. Clearly I even worried that I would end up single for the rest of my life because nobody could accept me. Yet, what the topic of marriage came up, I felt really unequipped and nervous to respond.
Am I ready to get married? Am I ready to settle down and start a family?
A part of me understands that marriage is not just about love and romance, that it’s not my place to fantasise about a romantic and exciting love now. I have to be pragmatic; I have to be less idealistic and less dreamy.
Yet, the girlish/childish part in me still hopes I can find someone I really feel compatible and attracted to. I can’t just marry any Muslim.
I want to marry a Muslim who I would love, care and able to communicate. Someone compatible. Someone who I can imagine spend a life with – not only this life, but also for eternity.
Is it too much to ask?
God knows best.