UNCLE JAWHAR'S NARRATIVES OF LOVE AND LOSS

Every evening as the sun kissed the horizon in hues of orange and purple, Uncle Jawhar would gather his grandchildren close. His eyes, bright, held a lifetime of stories. He would begin, voice raspy, to spin threads of love and loss, each one a valuable gem from his past. Some were sweet, filled with the bliss of new love. Others saddened the air,