I went for a run this morning along the Corniche (“corniche” means “street on a cliff.” The Corniche here is similar to a boardwalk, along the Mediterranean Sea). Overcast, but beautiful. Something about it all reminded me of my home—Seattle—in summer. Could be all the men fishing.
My father has started fishing in the river near his home. Right now, in the Pacific Northwest, it’s the end of the salmon spawning season, so there are innumerable salmon obeying the law of their nature, and returning to the site of their birth.
I wonder if it’s the same for us.
I am here, in Beirut. Half a world away from my home. Taking it all in; growing; becoming something new.
It’s not a question if I will return home. Of course I will. There are too many people whom I love and who have nurtured me not to. And when I do, most assuredly I’ll be changed. Older, sure, yet new because this world, made up of, and made by each and every person in it, renews me daily.
Ah-hamdillallah.
November 12, 2009
My father has started fishing in the river near his home. Right now, in the Pacific Northwest, it’s the end of the salmon spawning season, so there are innumerable salmon obeying the law of their nature, and returning to the site of their birth.
I wonder if it’s the same for us.
I am here, in Beirut. Half a world away from my home. Taking it all in; growing; becoming something new.
It’s not a question if I will return home. Of course I will. There are too many people whom I love and who have nurtured me not to. And when I do, most assuredly I’ll be changed. Older, sure, yet new because this world, made up of, and made by each and every person in it, renews me daily.
Ah-hamdillallah.
November 12, 2009
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