Sunset Blood

Convinced: Part 2

I'm so tired. I don't want to think anymore, so I roll up the earrings, bracelets, and necklaces that I've collected, along with my favourite pins and patches, and place them inside a special box. In another one, I place a collection of music CDs and vinyls that I found for less than nothing in a small Russian market. On top of that I place a postcard of the Eiffel Tower that I bought while in Paris with my dad. My favorite book,'Crime and Punishment' by Dostoevsky, goes in that one too.. It's old and the cover is torn but I love with with all my heart. I read it for the first time when I was eleven and it gave me the strength to go on after their last move. It's how I started to fall in love with Russia. I place it with my favorite record from when I was young, a vinyl from a Ukrainian folk singer. The record is scratched but so beautiful to me. My closet still holds sweatshirts, dance uniform, warm socks and snow suits, but I don't take any of it, none of it really matters now. It's all just stuff and stuff that won't be useful in the warm weather that is. I leave everything behind, the embassy's workers will donate those to charity anyways.

I'm looking out of the window, watching the city below us. The city looks like an ocean of light; flashes from the cars and the street lights reflecting on the glass and steel buildings. The cars look like drops of silver that have splashed against the asphalt. I can see a few stars in the sky, the moon is hidden behind the high rise buildings, but I can hear the sound of the sea, the waves breaking against the shore. I look at the lighthouse. It is a distinctive shape, a bright orange light at the top of it. The lamp blinks; on, off, on off, on off, like a heartbeat. I can't help but think of my grandfather.

Back in Albania, he would always stand at the shore and watch the sun rise. He'd say, "We should always watch the sunrise, to welcome the day and to say goodbye to the night."

He'd tell me this so slowly; he'd look at the water and breathe in the fresh air. With his hands, he would push back his long, white hair and sigh. "When you stand there, you just feel how small you are. You feel how small we all really are: me, you, everyone. But then, you feel so big, too. You feel like you're part of something so much bigger. You feel like you're part of everything. Like you're connected to each and every one of us. Like, you are us and we are you and you are everything."

Almost a decade later, I'm still watching the sunrise. Even if I didn't get to say goodbye before he died, or if his face is getting blurry in my memories, he was the lighthouse, the one that brought light at night, the one that guided me, and the one will help me find my way home.

"What are you thinking about?" my dad asks.

"Nothing, dad," I reply. "I was just looking at the lighthouse. I was thinking about grandpa."

"Why him?" he asks, surprised.

"Because, he used to always say that we should watch the sunrise. It is a natural way of welcoming the day," I tell him.

"Why were you thinking about him?" he asks.

"I don't know," I reply. "I guess I'm just scared." We both look at the water and the lights, trying to find our thoughts in the reflection of the day.

We sit for a few moments, just enjoying the silence. The lighthouse blinks, on and off, on and off. Dad clears his throat, "We've talked about this a lot before. You know why we're leaving." I nod, I do know. We've talked about this, many times. "I know, dad ,but it's different when you're on the edge of a new dawn." I sight. "All of that is familiar to you. You grew up near Jordan. For the last few years, all I've known is culture that are neither mine, nor yours, nor mom's."

"I don't want to leave, either. I didn't want to come here, either," he sighs. "We've talked about this a lot before. I know it's tempting to stay here; I know it is. I've been thinking about it for a long time, too. But, we can't. Both for my work and your mom's, we have to keep moving. We have to forget the bad memories of this place. We have to forget about everything that went wrong and just keep the good memories." He's quiet for a minute. He takes my hand and opens it, he rearranges my fingers into a fist.