The Red Thread

The other day, I shared a post I’d made 5 years ago as part of a writing challenge I’d given myself in 2020 called Twenty Weeks of Gratitude. It was a memory of project I worked on in 2015, which had roots in prior work I’d started 5 years before that, so you can imagine how everything might feel like a lifetime ago. Like a door that keeps revolving in a half-forgotten dream, or the ripples from a pebble someone tosses in a stream, etc. I recorded these videos when these threads unexpectedly came together while I was in Lebanon … Continue reading “The Red Thread”

My Heart Sees It

Someone asked me if my dad’s roll of Kodak Advantix film had been used, and I was certain it hadn’t, so imagine my heartache seeing these frames come back from the lab. This is my baby sister when she was still a baby sister. That’s the balcony at our old place; the same balcony she took her work calls on when we hung out at the same place when I was back there in January. It looks different now. So do we. I didn’t expect to see these photos so quickly. I didn’t expect to feel the way I do … Continue reading “My Heart Sees It”

The Windmills of my Mind

My sister found and sent me a picture of a single-serving carton of the chocolate milk we both grew up on and it looked exactly the same. This set me off into a slow moving spiral of sappy nostalgia, like a wheel within a wheel, you might say, a mood that I was already in this morning, having just finished a roll of film that was in my dad’s Kodak Advantix camera—a roll he’d loaded some decades ago but never used. So now I’m sharing these random moments I’ve collected around town; quiet moments in the noise. I found my … Continue reading “The Windmills of my Mind”

We Toasted to Victory

This is the moment we visited my father’s grave. It was the first thing we did, the day after I landed in Beirut. Among these images, some frames I remembered him occupying the last time we were all here together, when he could still walk with difficulty, and could point out the ancestral landmarks to me and Christine. I didn’t look back at those photos I’d taken of him back then. I just felt them in the moment. “If I were you, I’d constantly be going around like: do you know my small Lebanese hometown is basically a cult run … Continue reading “We Toasted to Victory”

Time is a Bastard

This is a photo that mom has framed in her living room. I didn’t ask when or where it was taken; it feels familiar. I’ve seen it many times, but now, of course, in new light. Time is a bit of a bastard. Time can be cruel at times, in fact. But there’s wisdom in time. There’s a deep knowing. I’ve had to sit face to face with time quite a bit during this trip and it wasn’t always comfortable. But it was good and necessary. We’re making peace. I don’t think we’ll ever be more than cordial, but that’s … Continue reading “Time is a Bastard”

Lebanon: Day 1

We went up to my hometown yesterday. I wanted to visit the different spots my dad liked to visit – a pilgrimage, of sorts. He didn’t have the strength to take us around the usual places last year, but I’m glad that our last and only excursion together before he lost all capacity to move was back to the land of our fathers. A strange land with surrealist characteristics, but the only place on God’s black and red earth that will never call me a stranger and always welcome me home. I joke about how I came back to bring … Continue reading “Lebanon: Day 1”

Don’t Be Like Me

After 6 and a half years, I finally took up my machete and hacked my way through the mind maze that is the American healthcare system. I found myself a primary care provider; today was my first appointment. I told her to feel free to talk to me like I was five, because I didn’t know a single thing, and I immediately proved myself by not knowing that insurance companies categorize different types of visits differently. Would this be my annual? I literally only get one a year. I don’t know, doc, you tell me. So, they gave me two … Continue reading “Don’t Be Like Me”

A Very Important Man Back Home

My father entered his death throws on the same night we all realized that Trump would be the 47th president of the United States. My mother called an ambulance as per standard procedure and we braced ourselves for the end. He resisted for five more days. My mother has a photo of my dad holding the remote control in his hospital bed. He was still interested in knowing what’s going on. I wonder if he heard the news that we were all reconciling ourselves with; I didn’t ask. There was something puzzlingly calming about holding our breath while the whole … Continue reading “A Very Important Man Back Home”

I Grieve The Son

This photo is mostly generative AI. I found a tiny thumbnail of a time before core memory, a mere 960 x 899 pixels and 336 kilobytes of perhaps the most important document in our possession, and ran it through Photoshop’s “generative extend” tool, because I barely recognized it. It was already uncanny. There’s my mother and father, but who is that child? I asked mom and she, with a slight hint of urgency, solved the mystery: “Habibiii it’s youu.” It just didn’t look real. Even the kid looks mildly suspicious. So, I ran the generative fill again and again until … Continue reading “I Grieve The Son”

R.I.P. Dad

At last, you are together again. Rest well, dad. Your pain has ceased. “IMAGINE A POSTCARD FROM BEIRUT”a post card by @natasa_bergk,scanned on a Konica Minolta 2100. What do you imagine? I see hospital beds. I see the slow murder of hopes and dreams. Imagine a postcard from Beirut. A picture-perfect vista so chockablock with injustice that it’s a solid mass. Just a solid wall with no cartoon tunnel painted on. Just blank and impenetrable. We can’t see the vista anymore. What do you see? Tomorrow’s Veterans Day, an awkward day for an immigrant and an Arab too, ajallak. It … Continue reading “R.I.P. Dad”