I am sorry I left without saying goodbye. I was in such a hurry packing my belongings I'm afraid we didn't have the chance to properly say goodbye to each other.
When I first arrive on that hot, August morning, I never thought Syria would be someplace I'd consider home. Of course, there were times when you drove me majnoona with your crazy drivers, littered streets, and smokers everywhere, but there was always more of you to love than not.
I loved peaceful Friday mornings with only the street cleaners and cats to keep me company of my way to church. I loved your late-night restaurants with hommus and shishas. I loved your lemon and mint, that just can't be duplilcated in America no matter how many times I try. I loved your ancient sights and soukes. I loved your Old City with its confusing, maze of alleys and streets that felt as comfortable as our own hometowns. I loved your shop keepers who would simply say, "Bookra" if they didn't have proper change for your 1000 note. I loved your beautiful homes with marble floors, hidden behind ugly facades of dirty stucco and wires. But most of all, I loved your people. People who greeted me each morning with a "Saba el khair" never once showing any disdain about my Americanese. People who would always help a car full of crazy foreigners find their way around, even getting on a motorcycle and leading the way. People who always offered what they had to eat, even though you made much more than them. Friends who were always willing to help us talk to someone on the phone when our limited Arabic just wasn't enough. People who became seems less like friends and more like family.
So Syria, consider this my proper farewell. I would like to say, "See you again soon", but I don't think that will happen. Take care of your people, they are your greatest natural resource. I miss the life I left behind there, and I miss my friends.
Love,
Channin
