The longest flight of
my life was over, and the moment I had always imagined was right around the
corner. My mother and I walked through the Dubai International Airport looking
for a man with my eyes. My body shook with excitement as I felt myself getting
closer to him. Before I knew it, there he was—tall, no longer dark, but still
incredibly handsome—it was my father. My dad is from Lebanon, and mom from the
U.S. We were separated before I was born and were finally meeting in Dubai,
U.A.E.
My father quickly showed me the glamorous and
diverse city of Dubai. Angular skyscrapers sparkled in the sunlight. I saw faces
from all over the world, but the locals stood out. Men wore white ankle-length,
loose-fitting garments. Women wore black, robe-like dresses covering everything
except their hands, feet and faces. A thin black veil concealed their hair.
Many women resembled Arabian princesses. Their perfectly painted eyes starred mysteriously;
their hands were covered in jewelry and henna tattoo. At the bottom of their
dresses, I could see golden ankle bracelets. I heard the sound of their
stiletto high heels clicking as they passed by. Although men and women were not
permitted to show affection in public, my father pulled me into his embrace.
My mother, father and I walked under the hot sun,
observing the Dubai Fountain and people strolling joyously around us. Suddenly,
the magnificent fountain began spraying hundreds of feet in the air, dancing
with the song, Time to Say Goodbye by Andrea Boccelli. Time stood still.
We headed out on the town for a traditional
Lebanese dinner. Jet lag finally hit me and my eyes began to close over a plate
of fresh fish, rice, and vegetables. My father’s heart-aching stories became
images—a thrilling film noir in my mind. It was obvious he had endured a lot in
his life, and I began to understand why it challenged him to be in mine. Prayer
bells rang, I awoke from my trance.
The next day led us out into the peaceful desert,
to the heart and soul of Dubai. I felt isolated. I felt a victim to the
glimmering dunes, and truly realized the inspiring difference between this land
and America. A warm wind swept across my skin as I watched the sunset behind
the sand-like mountains in the distance. I could feel time quickly passing;
this visit would never escape my heart.
The next morning my mother and I packed up our
things. We made the most of our last hours together, but time would not wait.
As we drove to the airport, passing tall buildings and city lights, my dad
reached back and held my hand. My soul felt complete and I wondered if I would
ever feel the same. I relaxed in final moments of my dad’s humor, intelligence,
and affection. This whole adventure seemed like a dream; it was time to go back
to reality.
I haven’t heard from him since.
