48

Alaa

I sit down and miss you. But today, for the first time, I smiled when I was missing you. Only because I remembered why I loved you more than anyone else. Do you know why? Because you loved life and never lost hope. You learned to love Jaffa even when it was cruel and you taught me that love. You used to say that Jaffans are sea people and merchants. They acclimate no matter where they go or stay, like shore people. You were alone in Jaffa, but you loved it like you loved a man madly. You wouldn’t stop loving no matter what. I sit in the small courtyard in your house. I have repaired it and painted it. I didn’t get a permit from the municipality. We’ll see how they react. I watered your jasmines. Their scent is all around. Like you, jasmines love the night. The moon is so full and big tonight. It’s about to take up the whole sky. I don’t know why I feel so happy today. As if I’ve rediscovered Jaffa, or learned to love it again. I walk and see its beauty. I don’t forget you, but I see its beauty. I don’t forget its memory, but, nevertheless, I see its beauty. I remembered that sentence you repeated so often: “Oh my, Jaffa is so beautiful and Palestine is so beautiful! Very beautiful and it’s not lost.

“That year is gone. But we are still here, grandson. Look how beautiful these jasmines are! Rights are never lost as long as one demands them.” I hope you are right. Who knows? But, yes, Jaffa is so beautiful.

I brought a bottle of local arak. It’s lethal. Don’t be upset that am drinking arak in your house. I’m listening to that Um Kulthum song you loved so much. Do you remember? “Far from you . . .” I long for you as I listen to it, and longing is love. Here’s to you and to Palestine. Oh, how beautiful is Palestine.