I woke up to a surprise this morning; my dad had sent me a photo his brother had sent him after their other brother had shown him an old family album that none of us had ever seen. In fact, this is the first time I’ve ever seen my grandfather.
It’s fitting and bittersweet to see his face and my dad’s chubby smile today. I’m heading back home for the first time in five years tomorrow—the first time since I arrived here, and the first time since becoming American. It’s fitting and bittersweet because my heritage is as complicated as this photo. Why have I never seen this before? Why had my father never seen it? Why is my uncle like this? Why is Lebanon like that?
Etc., etc., etc.
Going back home was guaranteed to be weird—after economic collapse, after August 4—but it’s especially weird this year, for obvious reasons, and some you probably don’t know about. I’m hoping it’ll be mostly the good kind, though.