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A new child had to be welcomed into the Al Shirah family, in the same way as had been happening for centuries.
Qazim turned and smiled at Grace who gazed up at him. She held Zarif in her arms. Qazim was sure he'd never seen a more beautiful sight in his life.
His wife with his son in her arms.
Grace was dressed in a plain white gown, and looked like a picture of perfect elegance. Zarif wore a little, ornately patterned, loose-fitting gown, perfect for the early morning warmth. The air beneath the canopy was cooler than out in the direct sunshine. Qazim knew they couldn't remain here for very long.
"Okay?" Qazim said to Grace.
She smiled and nodded.
Qazim leaned down and teased aside the collar of Zarif's delicate gown. "He looks comfortable," he said.
Grace nodded and rocked Zarif gently a little. "He'll be fine for a little while, I think," she replied.
'This won't last long, "Qazim explained. He'd already gone over what the tribal elder would do once the ceremony got under way. There would be some simple declarations, some important words spoken. Then there would a blessing bestowed on Zarif.
Grace looked nervous, Qazim thought. She was doing her best to hide it, but he could tell. This was all part of the new life she had agreed to. He knew the last twelve months hadn't been easy for her. They hadn't been easy for him, either.
But they had got through what some might have thought was the hardest part. The first year.
Would it be the first of many others to come?
That question burned in his mind, just like it had done for months.
This morning, over breakfast, they'd both understood what today really meant. He hadn't had to remind her that it was their anniversary. She'd come right out and wished him well. She'd even kissed him on the cheek after she'd done it.
For his part, he had a surprise lined up for her. He had planned a special dinner, just for the two of them.
But that was for later.
Right now, all that mattered was that this ceremony was carried out.
Qazim glanced behind him. His brothers were there and their wives. Also his parents. His father looked stern, as usual. But, Qazim could also see a hint of pride in his father's steady gaze. Alongside him, Qazim's mother leaned against his father, holding gently onto his arm. She smiled at Qazim. He was pleased that his parents were here. That everyone of his immediate family was here to be a part of this.
There were also many cousins and uncles gathered in the group behind him. Everyone who'd been invited had come. After the ceremony there would some shared food and drink in the coolness of the palace.
The elder who was to carry out the ceremony arrived. He was dressed in traditional white robes. He smiled at Qazim and then at Grace. Then he reached down and laid a gentle hand on Zarif's head. He said words in Qazhar language.
Qazim knew that Grace's command of his language was growing by the day. She'd been learning as much as she could. But, this must seem so alien to her, he thought. The words the elder spoke were words about tradition and honor and family.
Qazim thought about Riaz, standing behind him, with Eva holding onto his arm. His brother would appreciate the sentiments of these words, Qazim told himself. They were the values that Riaz believed in, the ones he and Eva lived by.
The elder placed a hand on Grace's forehead and spoke, his voice quiet and steady. Grace looked solemn, as if she realized the significance of what was happening.
Then the elder reached out his hand and placed it onto Qazim's forehead. Qazim closed his eyes and listened to the elder's voice. Qazim felt a surge of emotion as he leaned his head forward slightly, eager to feel a part of this experience.
His heart filled suddenly with pride, and something more. As he heard the words that announced that Zarif shared his heritage with family members long gone, Qazim sensed a powerful connection being forged. One that he knew it would be impossible to break.
Then the elder opened his arms wide and smiled at Qazim and Grace, making it clear that he wanted them to move closer together.
Qazim shifted toward Grace, who lifted little Zarif up. Qazim gazed down into the eyes of his son and felt his throat tighten with emotion. The boy gazed at the elderly man who spoke in front of his parents, and then smiled.
This truly was a special moment, Qazim told himself. He felt humbled by everything that was happening. He sensed Grace's body press gently against his side.
Qazim looked at her. He could tell that she was feeling emotion almost as much as he was. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were bright.
Qazim leaned in even closer as the elder continued to speak. Then, suddenly, the elder ceased to speak. There was a long silence. Everyone knew this was the moment for reflection. No one spoke a word. All Qazim could hear was his own breathing and the tiny sounds of his son.
