Whenever there’s a big move, there’s clutter, and wherever there’s clutter, there are countless attempts of organizing, and this means sorting out what to keep and what to get rid of. Now this ‘get rid of’ part is easier said than done. I had piles of different kinds of stuff I wanted to get rid of, and I thought that by sorting them out, I’ve actually done the hard part, but turns out it’s what you’d do to your belongings and how you’d get rid of them that really matters. 

There were times I wished I could just put them in plastic bags and throw them out the window in the middle of the night and my problem would be solved.But I kept thinking how all the items are in great condition, and how there are many poor people out there who’d really use them. So I decided to give away stuff that I can not take away with me, and that I  wasn’t able to sell,  to charity.

Another  problem occured, how do I reach them? I had no idea, so I contacted some friends, and searched online, and the only one I was able to reach was miles and miles away in an area I’ve never heard of, and have no idea how to get to… so charity was crossed out; charity as in an organization, not as in the concept, I still wanted to help out as much as I could. So finally, I managed to get some people to lead me to poor families and guide me to places where I can find those in need, and I was so happy I was able to help even a little bit.

But then I came back home, and started packing, and found out that I still need to get rid of even more things! things I thought were too precious to be given away or sold, or thrown, but again, moving meant scarificing many things you love, and I had to give them away, yet again, but although I believed I’m not that possessive, and although I thought that I’m strong enough to handle this, I must admit that it’s really hard to empty a place you called home for a long time, and to give away things you worked so hard for, or things you waited so long to finally get… they might be useless, they might be cheap, they might be worn out, but they have many memories engraved in them, and they just make your heart beat so strong when you hold them… but I had to be strong, I had to be brave enough to make this hard decision.

Today

I’m writing this from our small apartment in Dubai; I have my vanilla flavored coffee to my right, a yummy donut to my left, and right behind me, in the left corner of the room, there’s this big cardboard box that would actually smile back at me if it were alive… let’s just say, it turns out I could be a teeny bit possessive, if you know what I mean

This morning I woke up at the same usual time, drank the same coffee, did some of my translation work, just like every other day. My day was a very ordinary one, doing the same things, at the same time, in the same place. That was until I checked my email and noticed that among the many emails in my inbox there was this Facebook message, notifying me that I was tagged in a note by my younger sister.

Her note: “Once upon a time… never comes back”

“- Going back, twenty years ago, it was a blessed Ramadan evening, I was lying on his lap, he was running his fingers through my hair, and reciting verses of the holy Quran; I recall nothing after that… I fell into a deep sleep. He’s been there… he’s my lovely dad…
– It was my very first day, she combed my hair and dressed me up, I grabbed my lunch box and I’m off to preschool, it was the beginning of my new big world, I tried to hold my tears back, but… couldn’t help it, I let go. She wiped my tears away, threw that warm kiss on my cheek and pushed me forth. She’s been there… she’s my unique mom…
– Holding her books, memorizing the words, wearing that red girly ribbon over her wavy hair… that’s how she looked, “Can I have my milk?” …her smile replied, “Can I get my ice-cream?”… her green shiny eyes responded… she’s been there… she’s my eldest sis…
– It’s London, rain drops were knocking the top of our heads… “It’s too cold”… “it’s Okay, just walk beside me and give me your hand” … my little fingers were hiding safely inside his big warm palm… he’s been there… he’s my eldest brother…
– I woke up, opened my eyes wishing if she’s still around… but… “it was her wedding yesterday”, I can no more wake her up and bother her small ears with noisy sounds… heart to heart, that’s how we communicate,  she’s been there, she’s my other sis…
– My twin, babies we were… and together we grew up… too many things to recall and little to forget… fighting…playing…screaming… dreaming… dancing… me and him, he’s sitting in that spot, a special corner in my heart… he’s been there, he’s my little brother…That’s my family. Bless you…”

The minute I finished reading her note, I felt like time stood still; it was no longer today, it was years back, I no longer was in my home in Tunis, I was back in Kuwait, London, Amman and many other places we used to be when we were all together. I felt this overwhelming joy to relive these so old moments, but couldn’t fight the tears that found their way so easily out of my burning eyes… for I was the “other sis” who left immediately after her wedding, just like that. I felt so brokenhearted, just like I must have broken all their hearts years back.

But as I taste this bitterness , I sense sweetness of the old days taking over my aching heart, reviving one single dream, a hope, that the “once upona time” will come back, and that one day we’d all be in the same place and bring to life those sweet memories that seem so far away.

After a week of cold weather that brought us wind and occasional rain showers, a couple of really hot sunny days followed, and today, we woke up to watch the streets, cars, and buildings covered with one fat layer of sand. It’s a bit cooler than the last couple of days, but the problem is, the air smells like dust. I hate that!
The atmosphere feels so dirty!

Can’t wait for it to hopefully rain again and have some refreshing weather that fills your lungs with “relatively” clean air…