Memories I’d Love to Live Again

Time: May 19 of last year.
Place: Saida.
It was my best friend’s birthday. A sunny, typical May day. It was a beautiful day, but not for my best friend. Her family didn’t get her a gift, they didn’t even wish her a happy birthday. The only person who got her a gift so far was me, until my dad noticed her depression. My dad, wanting to cheer my friend up, decided to take us to Saida (Sidon) for ice cream and promenading on the seaside. The day brightened up for us, for we both enjoy seaside walks. As we were on our way we cracked up some jokes here and there, enjoying the beautiful view of the foamy waves splashing the green mountains bestowed upon us. We enjoyed the sea castle. The neighboring pelicans devouring the leftover fish reminded us to pass by the beach. It was about sunset when we reached, and fortunately for us, there were few people accompanying us. We decided to seize the chance, to climb over the fence, leaping between the big rocks, to reach the dirty beach. Our happiness blinded us from the nuisances and filthiness, and we played with the waves and the ebbs. We laughed like children. We walked around the beach, talking and collecting souvenirs of seashells. We had a promise of eternal friendship, casting two stones into the sea to seal our promise. And afterwards, we played again, resulting in soaked shoes and wet socks and watched the sunset with pure happiness in our hearts. Noticing the darkness my dad called us, promising us to get us ice cream on our way back. We went inside the shop, barefoot, dripping with water, and laughing like crazy. We finished our dessert, cracking jokes and giggling. Our day was done, and we turned her gloomy day into a sunny one.
Time: Sometime between December and March two years ago.
Place: Public balcony in the city I live in.
After thoroughly planning a trip, three friends and I walked from our school to our local fast food chain. We walked around our so called “city” which I consider no more than a big village inhabited by regressive people. We reached the restaurant, savored our food in between jokes and giggles, and then decided to go outside for a small walk around the balcony area overlooking Beirut beside the restaurant. We went there, three girls and one guy talking about random topics. We saw the world around us, a couple being overly comfortable in public, backward thinking people, contrasting buildings, and a beautiful coastal view. We discussed about secrets, with one of the girls telling us about the number of penises she saw, how she kissed another girl, and many other things. We discussed opposite sexes, me asking about their sexual organs and vice versa. We talked about circumcision and masturbation. We spoke of past relationships and crushes or loves. We enjoyed the sunset together, the last stings of lights bathing us, our shadows wishing each other farewell. I retired home, determined that this was one, if not the best day of my life. It was the day I poured all my troubles out, us four people, talking, without any taboos or prohibitions. We saw each other, listened to each other from the inside, from the perspective of true friends. Yet every sweetness has its sour side. After this great trip, we tried organizing more, but all in vague. It seems I’m the only one who was into it. As of today I don’t try anymore, it’s hopeless if they’re not determined. Yet I look back to it with many smiles, to one of my happiest day of my life, to the day we became one.


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