What We Are

pilot

-ZAHRA-

~Welcome to Rafik Hariri International Airport...~

I hug my mother tightly, assuring her that I will be alright.

She tumbles over her words, washed in tears, regretting the release of the last of her flock.

"Bshoufik bil sayf Mama" I'll see you in the summer. I don't know how many times I've repeated this, whether to my wide brown eyes in the mirror, or to my mother herself.

College/University/Freedom

My father stands straight, waiting, with my bags. He has my passport and papers in his hands, perpetually prepared. He hands them to me, repeating for the hundredth time what each of them mean. Baba, I've traveled before, I can take care of myself. I want to say. I know.

But I don't. Because I know that this is as hard for them as nerve wracking and exciting as it is for me.

College/University/Freedom

Away from the traditions away from the garbage away from...my life.

Starting anew, a fresh page, covered in English and Canada and all things glorious.

College/University/Freedom

I look at my parents and their smiling-through-the-tears/trying-to-be-happy-for-me, and I give them one last lip-biting hug.

I make my way into the line for security, and they wait and watch.

When I am through, I wave over the edge.

My heart is beating quickly but I brush it off as excitement.

College/University/Freedom

I go through customs: Lebanese/Libanaise/ لبنانية.

My name is Zahra Salibi.

I am 18 years old.

I live in Beirut, Lebanon.

I breeze through all the grey suits/green suits/pajamas/football/designer people.

And then when we are buckled up and almost ready to go, I text my mom and it hits me:

College/University/Freedom/

Alone.