Nostalgia

Fifteen years ago, we moved from our old big family house to the house we currently live in. Since then, my life had completely changed and I could no longer do many special things I used to do when I was under the age of eight. The big family house where I was born was excitingly vibrant and full of memories, feelings, emotions and unforgettable experiences that will never be repeated again.

I still remember those days when I used to have a cup of hot chocolate whenever I went home back from school, laying on a bed opposite our old TV set, watching ‘The Lovely Bear’, the cartoon I loved most then. My room was full of paintings which I and my sister used to draw with the help of my father who liked to paint nature scenes and cartoon characters derived from various stories. We were fond of watching his painting brush strokes and tried to imitate him using a variety of vivacious colours. Alphabets of Arabic and English were almost on every wall. In the living room, the walls were greenish, with oil drawings wherever I looked. The floor had the colour of the sand, with greenish squares embellished with white dots. I still remember the two birds; my sister’s and mine, which fascinatingly warbled all day, releasing unbelievably mellow and harmonic sounds.

Leaving our apartment and running downstairs, our mini orchard was there to embrace us. Our most joyous times used to be there, where exquisite flowers and trees surrounded us from all directions. The bushy trees bloomed on the walls casted dancing shadows all over the place, and the trees were rustling as though spirits were whispering to each other. Whenever I took a breath, the aroma of Jasmines permeating the air crept into my nose. The smell of Tangerine used to sneak into my nostrils; however, its fruits sour taste was unforgettably special. Mango fruit was the reason why we, I and my cousins, were always punished by my grandmother, as we used to pick them while they were still unripe. Numerous tantalizing aromas wafted out from lemon, fig, guava and apricot trees, that the wind blowing in the orchard was flavoured with diverse whiffs. Grapes clusters hanging from above were as bright as diamonds thanks to the incandescent rays of the sun infiltrating through the trees leaves and branches.

In order to reach that small aperture in the wall separating us from our neighbors’ house, we had to be extremely cautious not to tread on the mushroom growing in the backyard. That circular aperture was one of our peculiar ways to communicate with our neighbouring friends who live in the other side of the street; chatting, playing and even studying together there. Next to the aperture was a chicken coop, where many chicken as well as a trouble maker rooster were living. That wily rooster with his cunning glances and cautious motions used to attack us and to be attacked by us as well. The resplendent aureate beams of the scorching fiery ball in the sky had always contributed into heating the sand daily, and playing across the threshold of the house by midday was one of the most enjoyable games ever. No sooner did our legs touched the sand than they began to burn as though something began to sizzle in a pan. He who kept jumping on the flaming sand for a longer time was the winner.

Such places, times and stories are difficult not to be remembered. Some simple scents may smell ordinary to people; nonetheless, some other people would find them especially fragrant. Similarly, some places are more than mere buildings to people, as memories and experiences do create deep emotions and feelings towards them. Though I’m happy and satisfied with my current life, I sometimes wish that things had not changed. This has made me feel quite nostalgic, in fact.

Written on February 24. 2016.