I wish.

I’m in the tramway and, I realize some tourists are in awe at the sight of the library I go to everyday. I look at it too, trying to find the beauty they’re contemplating, seeking for that thing that seems to astonish them but I don’t seem to find it. And that’s when I realize how much we took our land for granted, how much we failed to realize that Syria was all we had, that it was the best thing we had until we, in some ways lost it. I still believe that we will go back and rebuild it and help see the smiles be drawn on people’s faces again. I blame myself for having taken it for granted when I could go there and smell the love of it. I wish I stuffed my face in the jasmine, smelled it more and kept the pretty necklaces of flowers we did with my cousins. I wish I took more taxis, and talked to more drivers because they took us so many places and we barely acknowledged their faces. Life seemed so different when I used to be there, it was like time had stopped and simplicity had overcome my life. I was happy, so happy and free, free of any hard thought, I was living my actual childhood, growing up being my actual age, and being fourteen was my favorite thing. I wish I thanked the man that came every single day at six in the morning to clean the streets while I was watching him because I couldn’t fall asleep. I wish I went around and met more people, those people we don’t see because we sometimes forget that the world isn’t only turning around us, those people that make this country so unique and beautiful. I wish I had been more grateful and treasured it. I wish I knew how it really felt not to be able to come see Syria and touch its soil and while the last time I touched it was with my feet on it, when the time to come back comes, I’ll lay my lips on it.

 

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