Most people tend to grow up with their siblings from the time they’re born. For me, this wasn’t really the case. My sisters and one of my brothers all shared one mother, who they lived with while I lived with my own mom. I knew my sisters and brother from the time we were born to when I was five, when my parents fought and my mother and I cut off contact with my heinous father.

All I really had was a few faint memories of my siblings, knowing them and playing with them, but I held onto those memories throughout childhood and to this day. I sadly accepted that I’d probably never see them again, and they most likely wouldn’t want to see me either, since my mom had divorced our father anyways.
I thought this for a long time, until a bit after my seventeenth birthday, when I checked my texts. Someone had sent a friend request to a Facebook account I hadn’t used for a long time.

That someone was my sister, Sherin.

I couldn’t believe it. I needed time to really think about what was going on. Flipping through her Facebook page, I almost couldn’t believe it was her. She was an adult now, wearing makeup and hijab. This was a far cry from the 10-year-old girl with the long black braid that used to play with me as a toddler. I wanted to message her, but I was worried as well. Was there a specific reason she wanted to contact me? Worse—what if my dad was involved? I was thinking into it too much, and I decided I would sleep on it before doing anything.

I went to bed, and the first thing I did the next day, was find her on snapchat—this was surprisingly easy, since the link was right there on her Facebook page. My heart was beating wildly as I added her as a friend and sent her a message:

Kitty2000: Hey
Kitty2000: This is Shahinaz

I imagined that might be all the explanation she needed, if it really was my sister. Something in my mind wondered if it was somebody else—another girl with a similar name. But my gut told me I was right. I watched as the message was opened, read, and a response was typed:

X_Sherin_X: What’s your last name?

I perked up a bit. This was a clue that she remembered me, her half-sister. I messaged her back and told her my last name--the same last name as hers. 

I hesitated a moment, before thinking I should say something else explaining what I was doing—just in case I had the wrong person.

Kitty2000: I think we’re sisters

I sent it, knowing full well how lame it was. But it was the only thing I could think of.

X_Sherin_X: Yes we are
X_Sherin_X: Hello darling 

It really was her. She remembered me. I felt myself smile and tear up, happiness taking over my body and mind like a drug. We messaged some more, going a few hours straight without stopping. There was a lot of catching up to do.

We exchanged everything from selfies, pictures of pets, and news of where our dad was—thankfully he was out of their lives. I was curious about my other siblings as well, and asked to see what Ahmed and Rahma, our brother and younger sister, looked like.

I’d seen pictures of Ahmed online, so I wasn’t too surprised about the fact he had grown his hair long enough to keep in a ponytail. But seeing Rahma, I felt my eyes widen in surprise. She was all grown up now. The last time I had seen her was when she was a two-year-old baby with her hair in pigtails, and now, she was fifteen, pairing her hijab with cute necklaces. I asked Sherin to tell them both hi, and was pleasantly surprised when she said they wanted to talk to me as well, and was it okay if she gave them my phone number?

Of course it was more than fine. Soon the four of us had made a group chat, where we sent various pictures and music we liked. I laughed a bit when Ahmed texted that I used to call him ‘Afmed’ as a toddler. My mom, who was completely aware of what was going on, didn’t mind me spending a huge chunk of the day on my phone.
The next weekend, we arranged to meet up. I was both excited and nervous, since I hadn’t seen them in person in about 13 years. We chose to go to a mall and maybe have coffee, then hang out a bit. I was there first, and I tried to distract myself so I wouldn’t have an anxiety attack and make myself sick. My face was a furnace and my hands were ice cold. I knew I should try and distract myself since I didn’t want to have an anxiety attack.

The mall wasn’t as very fun place to be, unlike the ones I would go to in Dubai whenever I wanted to meet one of my school friends. This one was basically one long hallway, and the most significant thing there was a McDonald's that was currently being renovated. All I could do was connect to the Wi-Fi and check my social media while I waited, trying to tame my nervousness. I was glad there was somewhere to sit, but it wasn’t comfortable. It was a hideous leather chair, the kind that vibrates when you put a coin in it. I didn’t have any coins, and even if I did, I didn’t want a massage. I wanted to make sure I didn’t have an anxiety attack.

As I shifted a bit, I happened to look up, and my eyes widened. It was my sisters.
“Guys! Hey!”
I felt a dorky grin break out on my face as I stood up, and they both smiled as well—dorky smiles eerily similar to my own. Sherin rushed up and hugged me. I happily hugged back, even pulling Rahma in and forming a happy group hug as my anxiety from earlier melted away. I knew this would go down as one of the happiest and most unbelievable moments of my life.
I couldn’t get over my amazement at how much everyone and everything had changed. The last time the three of us had seen each other, we had been little kids, with Rahma being barely out of babyhood. Now Rahma and I were both in high school, and Sherin was working.
“Where’s Ahmed?” I queried when we all broke apart. The smiles still hadn’t left our faces.
“He went camping last night. He should be here in about half an hour, maybe? And my Mom was parking the car, she should be here soon.” Sherin explained.
Soon enough, their mom came up, and she hugged me excitedly —I had to bend over a little bit because, like my own mom, I was about the height of a lamppost. I received a kiss on each of my cheeks from her, along with multiple remarks on how much I had grown and how tall I was now.

Soon she called Ahmed to see if he was on his way, and I was handed her phone. Hearing your own brother or sister’s voice over the phone after years of no contact is a strange experience, I can tell you that. At first you don’t even recognize who’s talking, even when you keep telling yourself it’s them. Ahmed said he would be there in a while, adding that he’d tell us about his camping trip when we were all together.

While we waited, the four of deciding to go eat something while we waited for Ahmed. Sherin was just as nice as I had remembered she was—she offered to go get my food for me from the counter, and, after my insisting I would do it myself (I hadn’t decided what I wanted and I’m used to ordering my own food) she began to speak,
“I’m your bigger sister! I’m supposed to be—”
I started laughing a bit. “My bigger sister? Is that why I’m the tallest?” We all laughed at that, and Sherin and I went together to order food, which was paid for by the swipe of Sherin's credit card—she insisted on paying for mine, and I let her, privately resolving I would either pay her back or pay for my own next time (She didn’t let me keep either of these promises).

Of course, there was a lot of talking. We talked about what we were doing (or had done) in school or college, and I asked what the news was on our father—who I didn’t like too much. I was thankful to learn that they’d cut him off and that Sherin never responded to his messages on WhatsApp when he tried to talk to her. I was slightly surprised to learn that I wasn’t the only one who referred to our father simply by his first name.
We decided to switch to a lighter subject after a while, and, after finishing our food, decided to hang out near the parking lot, where my sisters and I took group selfies while we waited for our brother.

Finally we were all together, and Sherin convinced me to take my hair out of its bun to see whose was curlier--Ahmed's or mine. We all decided the two of us both had similar corkscrew curls, though his was slightly curlier. Soon afterwards we went to a small coffee shop, where we shared a pot of tea poured into individual tiny cups without handles.

Everyone was saying I looked a lot like Ahmed, including us having the same eye color. We even liked out tea the same way—with at least six sugar packets mixed into each cup. Was it a coincidence, or was our love of sweet things genetic? I wasn’t sure, but it was vaguely interesting.

After all of us had our tea and it was paid for, there wasn’t much else to do but mill around. Without there being many interesting places to go, we went to the toy store. It wasn’t anything very significant or interesting, just your standard Early Learning Center. The only thing was it wasn’t all that big, and Sherin bumped into a battery-operated toy duck that was on a shelf, making it start moving and making noise. I watched it for a while, listening to the words of the song that the toy ‘sang’. I can’t remember the exact words, but I want to say that it included something like ‘shake your tail feathers’.

“Um…” I just stared at the toy, not knowing how to react—especially since it was marketed towards toddlers. I couldn’t help feeling amused, and neither could Sherin.

“I wouldn’t want to get that for my kids. Ever.” Sherin laughed, shaking her head. “What were they thinking?!” 
The rest of the day went by as you might expect, poking around the mall and chatting some more. The feeling of disbelief stayed in me even when I went home and flipped through the pictures the four of us took together. making sure to send them to Elizabeth, my best friend, who I had told about everything.

I’m glad that Sherin tried to contact me, not giving up even after I already had. I’m glad I got to see my own brother and sisters after so many years of not seeing one another. It was a truly amazing experience seeing them again, and we all agree that we’re never falling out of touch again.