Chicks’ Seller

They smell lovely because it reminds her of the smell of babies. The mother is only creature in this universe who is happy with the smell of the baby, especially when some of the milk that he tasted through his little mouth and liquids from among his gentle lips, he begins to wipe it with great happiness. “Health and joy.” The smell of milk that comes out of the body's binaries as a sweat and from the bottom of its barely growing hair is the mother's complete satisfaction, a reassuring view that it has led to his food and care. When his return is intensified, she becomes happy and delighted. She says in her hand when she holds it and feels his back when his head is stabilized on his body, so do not swing like a pendulum, which dances right and left: Your back is firm, you dog, I swear to God, and you grew up, cat. All these feelings have been felt as she inspected the small green chicks she bought several months ago from a Fayoumy seller who wore beautiful, colorful celestial galabia and brown turban with the color of tree roots. I wondered why he put turban in his head. Is it because the Earth grows thanks to heaven or because the universe is a circle that envelops each other? This daily Fayoumy comes every Thursday of every week, Thursdays only. He sits in dignity without talking and without calling like other vendors to sell his chicks.

Sitting in front of them in the morning sun of autumn as if he owned the universe with such a handful of chicks, making fun of their wings, shaking off everything that had been attached to them, and listening with a loving voice that indicated joy. It often happens when a chick walks out of the wall he had built for them from another galabia with the same color as the one he wore. It is strangely wrapped like a piece of cloth, which was discarded from a grueling day of a delicate family that the young girl did to them and then left that piece of cloth in a corner of the bathroom and forgot it the next day. The rebellious chick in the group always wants to break the rule of order. There should be a rebel in all groups. The seller does not give him the slightest interest in trying to silence and trying but he is soon to return to his place among his peers to pick up seeds from the ground or to plunk his brother while playing; there is no land other than the seller's. On the day she decided to buy the chicks, she passed by several times and looked at the seller who didn’t look at her, he never asked people to look at his chicks nor asked them to buy.

He usually doesn't like it like the rest of the vendors, so his presence provokes others, but they fear his side, and nobody gets it. He is always silent. He usually feeds and gives the chicks water and sits in front of them to watch their movements and not interfere in their day unless one of the chicks gets into trouble because of his cravings and gets rid of them. For example: Someone's foot is stuck with a careless rope on the ground, or his head is soaked in water because he tries to get as much of it as he can without his peers. Once he sees the genuine survival of the troubled chick, he can help and save him. She has stood in front of him, often fearing responsibility and always having a conscious conscience, since how will she raise these chicks at home? But she loves the smell of childhood in them and their cravings and their little yellow feathers. On this particular day, she passed several times, and the seller seemed not to see her, and then suddenly she decided to buy. She was surprised to ask him about the price of the chicks.

-I don't take money for the chicks, take them, but take care of them

-but you sell and I buy with money

-Why are you sitting in the market?

 - I tell you I don't take money and you can take them as a gift. And save your money to feed them I took them.

- And I decided to take them asking myself who would refuse such a deal. I took them back in a very beautiful place at home, and I asked a carpenter before to make this house for them when I thought about buying them and gave them the lighting to warm. She wakes up in the morning to feed, water, clean them and leave them free to walk around the house, let them walk around the house freely, and those who rebel against their food, and want to taste my own food, I give it all to them. The only thing that is hard for me is teaching them the rules of life.

On the first day of their maturity with their new colorful crowns over their heads, I found one of them limping and told myself that he was suffering from a serious but a fatal disease and that he would lose his life after a few days and had no medicine. I sat down crying, crying and trying to take care of him and hoping for his recovery. But God's order was fulfilled, and several months later another chick died. He died for no reason. And I cried, and fell down, and took it, and put it beside his brother. A few months later, one of the chicks insisted on ignoring her and going to the porch of the house. He lost his balance, fell off the balcony, lost his life too, died, and her soul nearly died, and she took him to the nearest hospital and the doctor told her that he died. A few months later, one of them got sick. The doctor said that he should be operated on. She didn't have what to spend for the operation, selling a ring of her diamond rings left from the days of pride and sitting next to him with his care. The operation was successful and several days after he left, he turned himself in and left. After the latter's departure, an electrical short-circuit occurred because of the maid, which was not well noticed as she was cleaning the house of the chicks, and it was based on one loud cry to find them all had given up their lives. I took them and the sadness was wrapping my soul and burying them in the same place as their other brothers.

A few days later, the chicks’ seller visited her in dream and gave her a blue dress and she wore it. In the evening, the bell rang on her by one of her neighbors, who was responsible for taking the doorman's fare from the residents. She did not open. He knocked on the door until the rest of the neighbors started to join him in his trials. They didn't find a response. They knocked on her sleeping old neighbor's door most of the time, and she came out and said: I didn't see her; I swear that from the day she buried her chicken. Even the girl who cleans her house didn't come from that day and I miss her cup of coffee with cookies. She gave the doorman's wage for her and her lost neighbor and closed the door. They asked the police and broke the door and found her dead wearing a blue galabia. Call the folks and bury her. They came back. On Thursday, the seller of chicks sat in his blue galabia and a girl who loved the smell of childhood in the chicks passed by.