So yesterday, Lebanon and I had one thing in common: we both got fucked.
Lebanon was hit by the Zeina storm (floods, strong wind, billboards falling on the street, Byblos port practically drowning) and I… was struck by sickness.
As I lay in my bed sneezing my ass off, covered under two piles of blankets, I started experiencing what any red-blooded mammal experiences when they’re this sick and cold: the love blues.
You know how it is. You might think of a past relationship, the reasons why it didn’t work out, or how, if the circumstances were different, he would have been snuggling with you and massaging your head as the outside world falls apart. It’s basically a pathetic moment. Absolutely normal. But pathetic.
That’s when my dad enters the room. I don’t know how he built the courage to enter that germ fest, but he does. And I know exactly what he’s gonna do. It’s something he’s been doing since I was born. He walks towards my bed, lifts up the two blankets covering my legs, and caresses my freezing feet. In an instant, I go from 27 to 5 years old, and giggle out loud like a child.
Then I think to myself: “You idiot. You fucking idiot”.
I’m craving that love and affection from a man who consciously chose to walk out of my life, when there’s an unconditional love lying in the other room, which I’ve neglected. That 27-year-in-the-making love that doesn’t check your text messages, get jealous, or emotionally abuse you. That kind of love that just wants you to be happy.
Now sure, there are some things a parent can’t offer. Like my dad will not go down on me when I have morning wood. But it’s good to recognize the purity of that “original” love. The feelings you have for your parents, your sister, your brother… that’s also love. It’s probably the longest-lasting love you’ll ever have. And that’s fucking awesome.