50 years. Same shit.

He wakes up in his bed, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. It hasn’t fallen. Is this real? So many memories flooding his mind. 50 years’ worth of memories, sweet and bitter. 

Mostly bitter. 

He’s traveled so much. Too much. He kind of hates it. It’s not like the fun trips you plan for a week or two. It’s survival trips, escaping bombs and missiles, fleeing on an overcrowded boat to get to Cyprus while holding your kids’ hands tightly in yours, to then take a flight to different countries. Back and forth to Lebanon. Back and forth from Lebanon. It’s a common experience for Lebanese people.

“I’ve been waking up and wondering, where am I?” There was a look on his face when my baba spoke those words to me, pain, confusion, and relief somehow all meshed together in one expression.

As I write this, there are over one million displaced Lebanese, buildings exploding and collapsing as missiles are being launched at civilian areas, including areas where my extended family resides - sometimes literally a building away from where they live. Yet another Israeli invasion, possibly the largest. 

Wonderful…