It’s our daily journey full of sorrow and desperation. We don’t know what to say to console ourselves ! We curse the trees, the stones, and the people one moment; and another moment we say in a tone of voice that embodies volumes of pain: “Thank God.”
Daughter: Dad, I’m not just dragging a gallon of water, but I’m dragging our disappointment and our brokenness. And I’m striving hard to recover something from the memory of the recent distant past. The day we were there in our house. Do you remember it, Dad?
Father: How could I not, darling? It was the harvest of a lifetime for you. It is my legacy, the toil of my hands, and the burning of my skin under the blazing sun. It is the story of a life afflicted with misery, and the details of a memory exhausted by the crowding of events.
Suddenly, a confused tear falls on her cheek, and she tries to hide it by wiping it with the torn edge of her dress from the loneliness of the days. As she does so, at the same moment, the father’s heart squeezes with pain and agony over a tear that bled from his beloved daughter without him being able to catch it, without being able to prevent it from falling, and without finding a suitable word to console her wound.
So he suffices with saying: “Don’t be upset, everything is going to be fine, the important thing now is to be fine.” Then they complete their journey to their tent in the hell of this scorching summer, to begin another journey of their daily suffering without anyone hearing them. There, where the nowhere resides, on the margins of time, and in pages folded into oblivion.
Dr. Ali Tawil
