happiness

I have these flashes of memories that make me smile when I close my eyes.

When I was little, my dad used to travel for months at a time. It was during the war, and sometimes he had to come back by boat. My mom and I would go pick him up from the seaport in Jounieh. I was three or four at the time, but I have this vivid image of me spotting him from afar, coming towards us with his luggage in both hands. And I couldn't wait one more second for him; so I'd crawl beneath the wires, and I would run. I still see it now, and it looks like something out of a corny movie, a slow motion moment with some insanely cheesy soundtrack, of a three year old girl running and running towards her father, arms wide open, in tears, screaming "papa!"

There is a story my mother used to tell me all the time. When she and my dad were still dating, and she lived in "gharbieh" and he lived in "char'ieh" and sometimes, crossing from one part of town to another was the most dangerous thing you could do. The bridge we take hundreds of times now, the one that takes us from both sides of Beirut in a matter of seconds, used to bear the worst of the fighting. But all it took was a crescent moon to help you cross over it. You know when the moon is so thin you can barely see it? It was my mother's favorite thing in the world. And every time the moon was that thin, she kissed the people she loved, for good luck. And so one night, she saw the moon, and she wanted to kiss my dad. So she got in her car, and took the long way. Up the mountains and down again, so she could cross over to his side. It took hours, but she didn't care. When she finally arrived, she rang on the intercom (how they survived without mobile phones and internet is beyond me) and she told him to meet her downstairs, so they could look at the moon together. And kiss.

This might be the cheesiest story you've ever heard. I think it's the cheesiest one I've ever told. But it made her happy. Anytime, anywhere, if she closed her eyes and remembered that moment, it made her smile.

So many times we forget. We get wrapped up in the cloudiness of everyday nagging, tears and problems that seem beyond our capacity to deal with. But the truth is, if you close your eyes, it's full of happy moments to pick and choose from. That day at the beach with your friends, when you got tipsy and laughed your heart out. That time you got a phone call telling you you got that scholarship; you got that job; you got into that school. That second the stick turned blue and you wanted it to be blue. The first time he said "I love you;" the first time you stepped onto a stage; the first time you went out past curfew. That compliment that made you feel like a million bucks. I close my eyes and see Sunday Brunch with my best friend making piles of food for a bunch of hungover fools. I see my brother and my sister around the Christmas tree, with sappy Christmas songs in the background as we are putting up the lights and the ornaments. I close my eyes and there are so many pictures to choose from, I feel unbelievably lucky.


Today, I'm happy. I'm writing, I'm acting, I'm doing the things I love again. I wake up early and I can't wait for the day to start. And the best part is, it has nothing to do with anyone but myself. And I can smile without closing my eyes.

seasons of change

Summer is peaking out its nose.
It's been a long winter and we are all craving lazying by the pool, showing off tanned faces, drinking on rooftop bars and acting like we're on vacation even when we're not. There is a feeling that comes together with the change of seasons... something about renewal, feeling happier, rejuvenated, more alive. And after months of gray skies and cold nights, the sun is something to look forward to.

I was speaking to a friend this morning, and we realized that all our friends had broken up at some point during this winter, including the both of us. All long, serious relationships that came to their end, each for their own reasons, each in their own way. We each try to overcome it as best we can, we each have our own process, but it's not easy for anyone. It's crazy how one person missing in your life can create such damage, such change.

For weeks at a time, everything can seem fine. And then someone tells you he saw your ex kissing another girl. Or you spot that girl on Facebook that seems to "like" everything he does. Or something really great just happened to you, and your first instinct is to share it with her --and then you remember you can't. Most days you've moved on. He doesn't even cross your mind, until you see his car parked in front of you. You see her best-friend walk out of a shop, and you wonder if she's close by. You open a random folder on your laptop, and you stumble on dozens of pictures of the both of you. And then the wound bleeds a little.

Sometimes it's a song. A movie. The other day, it was a book. I read a passage that gave me the chills, as I felt I was reading the exact scene of my breakup. It was kind of creepy actually.

But then the stings get more and more rare. One day you see the car and you forget it was his. Her picture still evokes a memory, but doesn't hurt as much. You meet someone else that makes you smile and feel special, and suddenly it doesn't feel as hard anymore.

They say time heals all things. That as seasons change, things that seemed to have died come back to life. Right now, there are rays of sun one day and gray clouds the next. It's 30 degrees in the shade, and then all of a sudden, it starts to rain. Summer is peaking out its nose. And we're not there just yet; but we're close.

busy world

The world is busy.
Bin Laden is dead. Will and Kate got married. Gaddafi's son is killed. Scarlett Johanson is dating Sean Penn. I can't keep up.
What's funny is that even though "Bin Laden Dead" is all over the place, the "Royal Kiss" is just as big, even though it's three days old. I guess it's because love and death are the two things life revolves around.
I mention this because I walk up this morning to a flood of world news, and the only I have to do today was write a blog post. I'm a journalist --or I was a journalist before I decided daily news was too depressing and I developed plane phobia from reporting on so many crashes. But here I am, writing a blog, funnily enough, about love and death. And there is nothing more obscure.
I mean, what the hell do I (or anyone else for that matter) really know about how love works, lasts, breaks, hurts? Yeah so we love, and then we don't; we each have our stories and sometimes it feels like we go through the same thing, but the truth is, every story is its own.
And yes, I've lost quite a few people I love to the "other side" but it hardly makes me an expert. Last year I went through a "I'm afraid of death" phase and I bought about thirteen books on the subject. One's the story about a four year old boy who remembers a previous life (creepy) and another is written by this man who supposedly sees and talks to ghosts (even creepier). I thought it would help if I could get some proof that there is something going on after we go through the (inevitable) expiry date of our bodies. But it confused me even more.
And the truth is, despite everything that happens, the world keeps going. Today Bin Laden is dead and the prince has a fairytale wedding.Tomorrow the headlines will change but the heart of it will be the same. Love and death keeps the world busy. Keeps us all busy. Even though we know nothing about it.