The Dark Shade Of Beirut

The New House

    “Some say it’s painful to regret. Some say it's painful to change”. 
     I see that both regret and  change are painful, but perhaps change is less painful than regret, so I have  decided to change my life not to regret it. 
 
    With a lack of sleep that night, I packed my bags, and I was all ready to leave. I sat in my car at 3:00 a.m. counting the stars, smoking cigarettes, listening to “Oum Kalthoum”, waiting for the sun to rise and light up my road. 

   As soon as the light of sun broke down the darkness into dawn, it brought a new day, new chances, and a fresh page about my life yet to be written.

    I turned my car on and left making the
beginning of my new life… My life at Beirut. 

    I stopped for a while; I took that seed from my pocket and planted it in our house garden, just to always keep in my mind that my roots will always belong to this place. Then, I continued my road.
 
 
    Today is my first day of my transition from my village in southern Lebanon to my new house,  and it seems that I will be happy here with my new life, in my new house, nobody else but me.

     I turned on the music of my favorite old Lebanese songs for Sabah, then I started cleaning my new house. 

    I remember the last time I visited this place in 2006, after the war of the Zionist entity "Israel". After this time no one visited this house because it was for my grandfather, and nobody cared about this house after his death. 

   On the wall of my room, I hanged tens of pictures that remind me of my childhood, my family, my friends and everything I love. 

    I looked at the pictures and I felt that I am somehow sad about my old house, missing my family and feeling guilty because that was contrary to their desire.  

    When I decided to move and live in Beirut, they categorically refused, but I thought about leaving them and I did, not because I hate them, but I just wanted to chase my dreams at Beirut. Even though they are now mad at me, and they aren't asking how I am doing, I still keep a great love in my heart for them. 
 
     I think my sorrow about my family will not last long in this beloved city, just as I planned it to be. 
    
    My neighbor is an old lovely woman, “Em Sherif". She is Moroccan with winter-white hair, a timeworn and wrinkled face with a friendly, pleasant smile. Since my arrival and she is showing me love and care too, just like my  grandmother whom I miss so much. 
 
    Close to my house, between the church and the mosque, there is a small coffee shop which I pass daily every morning. I have met Peter, Ahmed, Mario, Fatima and Lary. 

    Lovely people, sweet place, graceful city… everything is pleasant here, and I'm  starting to fall in love with it. 
    I think I have sacrificed  basic things in my old house to meet new things here. I have sacrificed my life among family, a simple rural  life at my village, and replaced it with a magical life at Beirut.  
 
     I am sure that I am not that guy who is born for the beautiful mountains, rivers, and the charming sunsets of my village. 
    I am born for the chaotic streets, sleepless nights, and lost destinations. Here I am in ‘The city of joy’, ‘The city of romance’, ‘The heart of Lebanon’ and ‘The city of  Eden'. 

    But all these are just names of Beirut I have been imagining since I was little. I hope my coming days guide me to a happy life instead of dragging me down to the dark side of Beirut.  
 
    Today, I woke up when my door rang, and it was the dustman doing his daily job. I did not open the door thinking that mom is going to open; “Mommm!! Open that door please!”, ending up realizing that mom is not with me any longer. 
Sadly, I miss my mom. 
 
    This is my 15th day since my arrival to my new house, and I wanted to enjoy every single moment in my life here, because I felt deep within myself to reveal what the days had predicted for me in Beirut. 
 
    Since my arrival to Beirut, I am dating my coming by drawing a little cactus on the calendar above my bed. I don't know why I chose  a cactus, but I love this cutie plant.  
 
Today, while drawing the fifteenth cactus, I have noticed that  I had entered the third week. 
     I paused for a while looking at my family picture, thinking about my mom, my sweet grandmother, my annoying cousins  and all my  family that I have left behind.  

    The sad truth is that I have lost my loved ones, my family, and I think that I will not find in this house and in this small city anyone who will make up for me their loss. 

    My new friends and neighbors here are showing love and care for me, and they keep checking up on me from time to time. 

Either they really want to comfort me and make me feel happy, or they are just pretending that because I'm just a new guest in Beirut and the guests must be treated nicely. 

    Now, I'm just left laying down on my sofa, listening to the clock ticking “tik-tok, tik-tok…” wondering if I miss my old life, or I am going to miss the life that I wanted to have so bad, or I'm just that lost boy from that small village of southern  Lebanon. 
 
     I tried to convince myself  that I just want to live alone, free and happy, but I’ve realized that I don't want to live alone, I just want to live with love and kindness, with understanding and consideration. 
I want to meet someone who makes me feel the way music does. I want my home to be a place I run to, not a place I run from. 

     Laying down staring at the ceiling, a cute colored butterfly was caught in a spider’s web. When I saw the spider approaching close to the butterfly, I slashed the web's threads giving her freedom back and releasing her into the air.

    The butterfly spread its wings and flew. It flew up and up. While stalking this butterfly, I decided to do as it did, to fly up and just keep moving and reach the things I really wanted to have… to have my happiness.