Temporary TCKid Home

Wrote this when I was about 13. Thought I’d post it 🙂

Another Arabian Night

My bike skidded to a stop on the hot asphalt, flinging rocks through the air. I climbed off and passed quietly through the wooden gate. The tangy scent of the salty Persian Gulf greeted my nostrils. Laying my flip flops under the palm tree, I trudged though the soft, warm sand to the monkey bars. Swinging myself on top of them easily, my blue jean shorts allowing freedom to move, I took my usual seat right in the center. Sitting with my back to the compound, my new and yet old home, I faced the six foot barrier of cement that encompassed it. I dusted the gritty sand off my feet and gazed out over the wall.

The view was even more breathtaking than usual. The cerulean tide rushing in toward me, everything bathed in a rosy glow, lights beginning to awaken across the water, twinkling, from the fatiguing spell that the especially hot Middle Eastern heat had draped over it. An orange glowing sphere of fire levitated in the sky to my right, slowly being pulled beneath the sparkling sea, leaving wisps of lavender, pink and gold in its wake. A hot breeze began stirring the thick, humid air, picking up the sand beneath my feet, swirling it about.

I watched as it danced around, the rustling palm fronds providing the music, my memories providing a partner to waltz with. Everything seemed to move in slow motion. Ghosts of my past came rushing back at me everywhere I looked; the swing set, the slide, the swinging bridge, especially here on the monkey bars. Vague pictures of friends laughing and telling jokes in time of happiness; crying and comforting each other in times of sadness. Conquering fears, trying out new lip gloss ( the guys were reluctant participators in that one), falling apart and finding hope. The good, the bad, the mundane, it all happened right here. In this tiny, abandoned park at the back of the compound. Being ‘Westerners’ in a foreign place like Saudi Arabia really bound us together, made us a family of sorts. It didn’t matter where we came from, what our race or gender was, how old we were, whether we were short, tall, fat, skinny, popular or not, we were family. We were all here together, all here for each other. People came and went and came back again; new friends were made, and always old ones had a special place at the table, but The Family remained.

The five o’clock prayer call suddenly sounded. How appropriate; this place was as sacred as any religious building to me. A man began chanting in Arabic over the loudspeaker. Even across the water I could hear him. You’d have to be deaf not to. I smiled, shaking off my silent reminiscences, remembering I had to get home for dinner. Sighing, I stole one last glance over the wall, bidding goodbye to another beautiful Arabian night.