Maysaloon - ميسلون

I didn't want to jinx it and say anything, but my visit to Syria is now confirmed. My flight takes off on Sunday night and it is definite that my papers are in order and I won't be shipped off to boot camp as soon as I land. I'm not sure how I feel anymore, I've been looking forward to going home for so long but the initial excitement and restlessness has given way to a strange anxiety. Syria is different, hell I'm different. I never expect things to stay the same, but I still feel that twang of jealousy, nostalgia and sadness. It is like I'm meeting a long lost lover, I know she's had other lovers and I know I'm not the same person she remembers. Will she take me back? Why didn't she wait for me? I get angry.

Really I'm angry with myself, isn't it I who turned my back on her for so long, neglected her? I wanted to forget her and I almost succeeded for a time. Did I not lose myself in the embrace of countless tarts, adorned with cheap make up and cheaper perfume? Yet here we are after almost ten years and to my surprise, she awaits me, shaming me with her acceptance of my flaws, regardless of my childish jealousy. Damascus just smiles and tells me, "Welcome home".

.