English → Arabic transcript

I'm 80 years old, and somehow, I woke up in my 32-year-old body just for one day. I wake up to little hands tugging at the blankets. "Mum, wake up," they shout. I blink and I sit up slowly. My babies, they're small again. They

climb into bed, giggling, wiggling. I remember rushing through mornings, but not today. I pull them close, I hug them tight. I kiss their messy hair, I hold their little hands. This time, I soak in every second. I catch my reflection

in the bathroom mirror. No deep lines, no grey hair, my younger face. I used to think I looked old at 41. What a silly thought. I find my husband in the kitchen making coffee. He looks strong, and he looks young. I wrap my arms around him

tightly. He looks surprised. Maybe we didn't hug enough back then, I think. We talk about the day, and today, it all feels big. I memorize the sound of his voice. We pile into the car, kids arguing over seatbelts. Someone drops a

snack, there's crumbs everywhere. I used to get so frustrated, but today, I soak in the noise and the chaos, because I know my car will be quiet and spotless for many years to come. Dinner is loud and unorganized, no one wants

to sit still. There's shouting, giggling, arguing, and so much life. I don't clean up straight away, I just sit and I watch, trying to burn it all into my memory. Before bed, I pick up the phone. I call my mum, and I hear her voice.

I haven't heard this voice in so many years. I close my eyes and I let her words wash over me. I tell her I love her again and again. I never want to hang up. And this time, I don't leave anything unsaid. At bedtime, I don't skip

pages in the story. I read every single word. And then I ask, "Can we read one more book?" And they say yes. I don't want this day to end. I got one more day. And this time, I knew that this was joy, this was love. Those little hands,

our strong young bodies... with no aches or pains. Our parents, who are still alive. It all mattered so much more than we ever realized at the time.