Leaving...

Sitting at the gate waiting to board the plane that will lift me out of the Middle East I think of leaving the gentle, strong sounds of “humdallah” and “inshallah” that swirl around my ears.

I am ready to return home to easier Wi-Fi connections, familiar “WCs, and the comfort of my own home.

I leave seas of woman swishing elegant black capes, animated children and handsome Arab men.

I leave the dusky horizon and the drumming of the Ashura marching men; the songs/prayers sung out over the city.

I leave Mesopotamia, the banks of the Euphrates, the watchful (scared? suspicious? curious?) house guards.

I leave my 8 foot square bathroom that adjoins my private room with balcony and gold encrusted decorations; the satin and sequined bedspread and mirrored closet doors with gold emblem seal.

I leave the “palace” with its tenders that have not yet learned how to host.

I leave the irritation of having to ask for plates, bowls and hot water for all 9 mornings we are on our own for breakfast.
I leave the occasional woman and donkey in the Euphrates and the pack of nine dogs that roamed the area.
I leave the newly planted gardens of a variety of plants carefully watered each morning.
I leave the familiarity of a scarf around my head and the re-occurring need to adjust, re-pin, stick hair back in.
I leave Samera, Zuhair, Azar and Ghayyib; Hiba, Suad and Omar, President Akeel, Abdul Kareem and Sami.

I leave the dusty unpaved roads, the holy shrines and thousands of vendors.

I leave behind our relieved hosts that through their vigilance we remained “safe” throughout our stay.
I leave a part of myself.