huddled on the couch in the corner when it’s dark outside and our bellies are full from our plates of roasted chicken and potatoes and syrian meat pies, laham b’ajeen. white noise from the television screen, from chatter in the next room, from busy bodies roaming throughout the house. tradition’s roots run deep. time to […]
huddled on the couch in the corner when it’s dark outside and our bellies are full from our plates of roasted chicken and potatoes and syrian meat pies, laham b’ajeen. white noise from the television screen, from chatter in the next room, from busy bodies roaming throughout the house. tradition’s roots run deep. time to go elicits dread. don’t interrupt our security. our bubble on the couch in the corner when it’s dark outside. just one more minute, please.
floral patterns hold our feet. etched into carpet, soaked from chlorine. salmon-colored walls in a pristine living room. turning on the red light after showers to dry off. peering at the naked reflection in the mirror. studying it. overt contrast with tan lines.
sun-lit hallways; windows overlooking snow-capped hills. kids running about, tending to the resort’s allure. wake-up and repeat the escape.
sitting around the dining room table, picking at the cantaloupe, nibbling on chocolate brownie squares as i swear off sugar. voices overlap. loud and soft tones intertwine. home seeped within the air.
early september. street fair fervor. kettle corn on the corner and concert choir singing to open the festivities. national anthem while we sweat out those harmonies. in the backyard, on the deck, taking photos for social networking. knowing homework awaits. but knowing i’m still sheltered from actual adulthood.
huddled on the couch in the corner when it’s dark outside and our bellies are full from our plates of roasted chicken and potatoes and syrian meat pies, laham b’ajeen. white noise from the television screen, from chatter in the next room, from busy bodies roaming throughout the house. tradition’s roots run deep. time to […]
huddled on the couch in the corner when it’s dark outside and our bellies are full from our plates of roasted chicken and potatoes and syrian meat pies, laham b’ajeen. white noise from the television screen, from chatter in the next room, from busy bodies roaming throughout the house. tradition’s roots run deep. time to […]
huddled on the couch in the corner when it’s dark outside and our bellies are full from our plates of roasted chicken and potatoes and syrian meat pies, laham b’ajeen. white noise from the television screen, from chatter in the next room, from busy bodies roaming throughout the house. tradition’s roots run deep. time to […]
