As I was riding the train back from work today listening to “7ilwa ya baladi” on my MP3 player and looking out the window I started daydreaming:
That street over there…..I didn’t learn to ride my bike on it.
That tree over there……..I didn’t climb it and fall and hurt my knee.
That park over there…..I didn’t grow up riding its swings and pretending I was touching the sky.
That school over there….I didn’t play in its playground.
That valley over there…….I didn’t follow it’s path on my bus rides to and from University everyday.
That pond over there…….I didn’t through rocks….oh, hold on, there are no ponds in
Amman.
Then I woke up.
As I looked out the window I wondered: How can I call this home when my memories are all somewhere else, my heart belongs somewhere else, and my family are all somewhere else?
Will my daughter grow up here and call it home?
Only time will tell.
Here’s to home wherever home may be.
