Last Day….First Day and in between
Homesickness, Trauma & Hot Chocolate
The end of August 2013 was approaching. The whole world awaited an attack from the US on Syria after allegations that the Syrian regime had used chemical weapons against its citizens. As well, I had been impatiently awaiting to leave for The Netherlands via Lebanon to start a new chapter in my life and say goodbye to the war (or so I thought).
As a result of the new dynamics on the ground and rumors that the Syrian-Lebanese borders would be closed, I decided to leave without proper planning. I believe that not planning for sad goodbyes is a privilege. It took me just two hours to prepare two bags and choose a couple of family pictures, look at every detail in my room and hug my parents and sisters and let their tears cover my checks, and leave in a friend’s car. A cup of homemade hot chocolate was the last thing my mother gave me (made with love, as she always said).
At dawn, in a city of war, fear, and horror of daily death, misery, and American strikes (that never came), we had to drive to reach the highway to the border. At the first checkpoint, the officer took my hot chocolate and began drinking it…
