It was a Saturday morning in Copenhagen. As always on his day off, Affan was already heading down to the lakes, bags full of bread and seeds. He walked his usual route, passing by one lake and then another, always focused on his destination where they would already be waiting on him. He was sure.
It was a day in early June and the sun was already out to kiss Affan's face, watching over him as he, step by step, got closer to the “Sø”-pavillion. The closer he got, the more energized he felt. It had been a hard week at work once more, but at this point he could almost forget about it entirely and just look forward to seeing them.
As Affan passed the still quiet streets of Copenhagen he was filled with anticipation of seeing his family. Already now he could feel it reducing the pain of an aging body that was used, week in and week, out to work in a little kiosk in Nørrebro.
He got to the last intersection he'd have to cross, the pavilion standing tall right in front of him, casting its shade to reach for Affan, pulling him in.
As he was crossing the street, he could already picture every detail in his head. He knew that Ibrahim would sit on his bench, a bunch of newspapers collected and a tiny radio playing (he didn't really look like an Ibrahim, but Affan had never actually talked to the man and he reminded him of an uncle from back home, so he had named the man after him). They wouldn't talk either today, but they didn't have to. They had been bonded together by years of silent participation in each other's rituals, by the familiarity that slowly emerges between humans as we tangent each other's routines.
Then, just a few more steps away from Ibrahim, he got to the head of the lake, and to all of them. He walked through the group, reaching their center, confident they wouldn't fly away, recognize him.
As he did every Saturday morning for years, Affan started with the breadcrumbs. His children, as always, jumped up and down, fighting for their share, even though Affan had of course made sure there would be enough for everyone.
Next, he got out the seeds - his favourite part was about to start - as he emptied baggie after baggie of seeds, his children got to their highest excitement, dancing around Affan, picking seeds and surrounding him with their love. The majority of the seeds didnt even manage to make it to the ground before they were swept up. Every seed taken by one of their beaks was a piece of his week's hardships that they lifted of him. Their love, one by one, removed the burden from his shoulders and gave Affan the strength to continue for another week.
Though the entire ritual never lasted more than two minutes, for Affan it was a timeless moment - A ritual of a family coming together, pure and full of love.
Just as the church bells of Sct Thomas and Sankt Petri rang for 8am, Affan was crossing the intersection, heading towards the apartment, where Ameena and their three boys, Ahmed, Yacin and Youhana would already be up, engaged in the chaos that was morning breakfast. As always, Yacin would be more busy talking rather than focus on his breakfast, spilling cereals and milk all over the place. Ahmed would have his nose stuck in a book, working on studying ahead for the coming week of school, despite it being weekend. And Youhana would of course just be silently living in his own world. Ameena would be bustling around, yet in full control, managing their little microcosm of four - a world that Affan wasn’t really a part of anymore. He would get in pretty much unnoticed or unattended, and take his position on the couch while the family was busy with their routines. As he was on his way to the apartment, he braced himself for yet another long week until the next Saturday!
Disclaimer 1: The names are "borrowed" from real people that meant something to me in one way or another at a point in my life. They may or may not be fitting to each other culturally, and no offense is intended. They are also not intended to be stereotyping or in any way, shape or form marginalize any specific community.
Disclaimer 2: The picture is AI generated and therefor unfortunately not really able to capture the essence of the scene. I would wish I was myself an artist to be able to draw the truly amazing scene that unfolded in front of my eyes as I was just happening to pass by and seeing this man being all-surrounded by his Pidgeon-family, but unfortunately I lack that type of talent.