Sea. Grapes. Seagrapes.

They’re written as one word.They are one plant.--They’re a source. Of nourishment. Of protecting the waters’ banks and the sea turtles from the harsh rays of the sun. They grow, first green, then purple. One bunch, with distinct pieces. They are not traditional grapes, but they appear so.Sometimes they look like grapes, but they do not grow in the same way, in the same place, as grapes. Not on a vine, but in the water. They don’t stay still, they sway with the currents and the wind. They flow. A different kind of root.--Sea grapes. My grandmother painted. She painted with oils. She drew charcoal. She painted sea grapes. Looking at her artwork now, she painted and made collages and drawings and still lifes and scenes and portraits of people—friends and family at all ages in different places. But what she painted the most often were sea grapes. They hung in her home. I can still hear my mom praising her own mother as we walked down the hall way when we visited her:“Look Safaya,there’s another one of your grandmother’s sea grapes paintings!”My grand mother said she liked how the sea grapes looked.I don’t know why else she painted so many pictures of sea grapes, but I do know that I loved her and I loved everything she loved. I know that she always made me feel safe.--Sea grapes. Intertwined leaves. Close-up,they look chaotic. From far away, the jumble makes a perfect kind of sense. They reflect God’s creation of this plant. Like all creatures and everything on earth, God puts the min a perfect place at a perfect time in a perfect way. Their growth and change and all of their qualities lend themselves to the means and the ends that God plans and originates.--Sea grapes. They ripen, starting green, then purple. Two colors one wouldn’t think would really go together. Shouldn’t green transition to dark green, or maybe brown? Purple is an entirely new color. It’s unexpected. But God doesn’t create plants(or plans)to our expectations. God is The Artist. We are the art work.Purple is royalty, and wealth. It’s representative of something unique, removed from other things, rarer.Perhaps all of those things feel a little gratuitous, yet most are qualities that are bedrocks or stepping stones to many worldly dreams.In my own worldly dreams, I am connected to where I came from, and I live the way I lived when I visited my grandmother. Present. Excited for every day. Curious about everything, judging nothing, not even myself. We looked at old photos and she told me stories about when she was a teacher. She whispered all of the directions until the squeals of all 50five-year-olds she taught would soften to hear her. She told me about her own mother, who was an orphan. She told me about how much she loved to spend time with her father. She felt all of her feelings. I want to feel all of my feelings. She was connected to herself and to her family and to her heritage. I want that connection.

--

Sea grapes make the ocean look purple, the sunlight glittering and reflecting a bit differently off their ripeness. Has the water ever been purple? Does the water know what to do with purple?This is a description of sea grapes. Maybe I am a bundle of sea grapes.--Perhaps the sea grapes need to travel to even more far-flung locales, ones with electric eels or neon reefs, lands that match its purplish tendencies.--I am wistful.I am sea grapes. I yearn for the nostalgia of a time I never lived in, for the sense of belonging I haven’t yet felt.--Of course, moving might prevent the sea grapes from really living—the water of the reef sis several degrees warmer, it doesn’t really match the sea grapes’natural habitat. And, the reef-dwelling wild life aren’t very interested in hanging out among the free-flowing tangles of the sea grapes’ leaves. It’s nothing personal, it’s just not a fit. They aren’t understood so easily.I wonder if the sea grapes judge themselves.--Sea grapes. Their leaves squiggle in the water the same way that the red line underneath their name squiggles on my computer. Unrecognized. No reference information. Did you mean “Sea graves”, a city in Texas? No.Add to Dictionary.

-Perhaps the sea grapes could split off from each other, finding nooks and crannies in the sand under which they might be more generally accepted, or at least less bothersome and unwieldy. More pliable.Trying to present themselves as one big bunch of grapes, full of individualities and multitudes, has made them feel indigestible, confusing. But are the sea grapes themselves confusing—or is their environment just a little confused? Perhaps the sea doesn’t actually care so much. It might be in the sea grapes’ head...

--I am sea grapes.

--These grapes wonder if perhaps they could just remain green. I wonder if I should just remain green.Then they—I—could just match the other algae. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, to match the rest. Isn’t that the only way to be in community?I could stay green.

Staying green is fine. The green sea grapes could remain a bunch, unripe. They could still do most of their job, they could still nourish and help those around them, to an extent. They don’t have to be purple. They could just dream. Dream of the uniqueness of purple, like others.But you see, then they couldn’t grow. They couldn’t thrive. They would only live.So, the sea grapes must accept their own inevitable abundance. They must find power in their purpose,and live to fully ripen.My own abundance defining myself, for myself.Unburdened by judgment. With loving embrace of my own and others’ imperfections.It’s in letting myself breathe,perhaps not always in perfect concert,but always with my fellow Muslims. With my fellow humans.I am not too much of anything. I am accepting my own abundant self.My roots are firm.They are a mixture of water and air.I am Muslim. I am both Egyptian and not. I am both American and not.I am a woman.These are my facts.This is how I’m mixed. Sea grapes are at times diffident, and always different. I have scoffed at the ripples I have made, willing my own roots to sway and follow the tide.But when I am fully, abundantly myself, my roots can make waves.I am flowing through the water, painting my own imagination into being.I am sea grapes.--My grandmother painted sea grapes. I don’t know why she painted so many pictures of sea grapes. She loved me, and I loved her. She was abundant. She awoke my abundance. She cherished and honed her artistic skills, her teaching skills, her skills with clothing. She reminded me to try new things.To be less afraid. Everything she touched was made more beautiful.I don’t paint. I don’t paint sea grapes. I don’t know how. But I am a deep thinker. I am a learner, a leader,a reader,an artist painting my dreams into reality. I am nostalgic. I put memories into words. I am my grandmother’s granddaughter. I don’t know why my grandmother painted sea grapes.

I am learning to love sea grapes.ٰ

ـَبَۡعَنَّٱلنِخَیلَوۡألٱتَونَوَُّٱلزۡيَّٱلزۡرَعَوِِهمبَُكتلُِنبۢيَُِقۡوٍمًّ۬۬ليَةََِكَألِىَذٲلنفَِِّۗإََّمَرٲتِٱلثڪّلَُوِمنرَونُڪَّيََتَف

With it[the rain]He produces for you crops, olives, palm trees, grapevines, and every type of fruit.Surely in this is a sign for those who reflect(Surat An-Nahl, 16:11)