"Hey, Mom, I think I wanna be a Muslim."
My mother paused and looked up from folding laundry, setting down the blue towel to stare at me. "What?"
I scooted over on the couch towards the large laundry basket and leaned on the back of the furniture, head on hand. "I think I wanna be a Muslim."
She continued folding, but it was clear that she was confused by the sudden desire to switch from paganism to the much stricter and different Islamic faith. "Do whatever will make you happy," she said, finishing folding the towel and moving on to shirts, the clothing making neat little piles according to whom it belonged to all over the couch. "I just don't know that it will. They have to wear the-- the--" she made a vague motion around her head and I laughed.
"It's called a hijaab," I informed her and she nodded, picking up the little clothing piles and setting them in the basket to distribute through the house. I heard my brothers arguing over some video game or another and she brushed back her h