A nostalgic reflection on Ramadan and Eid childhood memories, and how Eid feels different when you grow up. An emotional diary-style story.
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There was something different about Eid mornings in childhood.
The house would wake up before the sun.
Soft whispers. The sound of utensils in the kitchen. The smell of something sweet being prepared with love. New clothes folded carefully on the bed like a promise.
Ramadan itself felt different back then.
We didn’t fully understand the depth of fasting. We didn’t know about patience, discipline, or spiritual cleansing. We only knew that something sacred was happening. Something beautiful. Something that made evenings warmer and mornings softer.
I remember trying to fast for half a day, feeling proud of my small effort. Waiting eagerly for iftar. Watching elders pray with a seriousness that felt mysterious and strong.
And then came Eid.
Eid wasn’t just a festival. It was reward. Celebration. Togetherness.
The excitement of wearing new clothes. The gentle fragrance of attar. The joy of meeting relatives. The innocent happiness of receiving Eidi. The laughter. The sweets. The feeling that the world was kinder that day.
But festivals feel different when you grow up.
Now Ramadan comes with responsibilities. Planning meals. Managing time. Balancing work and worship. Understanding the weight of prayers. Feeling the spiritual depth more — but missing the simplicity of childhood.
Eid mornings are quieter now.
The excitement is softer. The innocence has changed shape. Some elders are no longer around. Some traditions feel lighter. Some gatherings feel smaller.
Growing up doesn’t remove the beauty of Ramadan or Eid.
It just changes the way we experience it.
As children, we waited for Eidi.
As adults, we give it.
As children, we counted days for Eid.
As adults, we count blessings.
And maybe that is the real growth.
Maybe the innocence of childhood was about receiving joy.
And adulthood teaches us the grace of giving it.
Ramadan stands at the doorstep again.
And somewhere inside, the child in us still waits for that magical Eid morning — when faith felt simple, happiness felt effortless, and love filled every corner of the house.
Maybe this year, we won’t just prepare our homes.
Maybe we will prepare our hearts too.
Maybe Ramadan was never just about fasting from food.
Maybe it was always about softening the heart.
About pausing.
About remembering.
About returning to something pure inside us.
And as Eid approaches once again, I don’t just pray for celebration.
I pray for peace.
For forgiveness.
For hearts that feel lighter than yesterday.
Because perhaps the real magic of Eid isn’t in new clothes or sweet dishes.
It’s in the quiet moment after prayer…
when your soul feels clean,
your heart feels grateful,
and you realize that growing up didn’t take away the innocence —
It simply brought you closer to faith.
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