Baghdad: The Final Gathering

Chapter 1

Although my hair is growing thinner and a few white hairs have appeared over the past few months, I still feel like I am 22 or 23. I can still run just as fast, talk just as smoothly, and laugh just as hard as the guy I was eight or nine years ago.

I have always loved this suit, even though I've only worn it twice before. My daughter's first day at school was the perfect occasion for it; I looked at her proudly as she entered class that day. I also wore it when I took Fatima out for dinner. I will talk about those precious moments later, but now, I don the suit again to attend a gathering I have dreamt of all my life, one my heart told me I had only little time left to achieve.

"The house is amazing. Everything is spotless. Everyone has really done a great job, Daddy. I can't believe the work my aunt has done! The dining room looks exquisite. The crystal glasses, fine porcelains plates, and silverware sparkle. Mom's sheets are beautiful, ironed and as white as feather. The food Auntie has prepared is just... Oh, Dad, can you hear me?"

"Yes, sweetheart, but you forgot something."

"What, Daddy?"

"You, Sarah. You look amazing, my lovely angel, the most beautiful girl on this planet. Go now. I will be done in a minute and be down to join you."

As I hear the footsteps of my daughter slowly fade away, I take a final look at myself. I admire my clean shave and my hair, short on the sides. Out of all the looks I've worn over the years, this is the one that matches me most, that displays the man I really am.

Sarah's wonderful words carried me back to the first day we moved in, four years ago. It took a lot of time to get the house to where it is now. I sat for hours and hours with the engineer, and finally, after two years of hard work, brick by brick, my dream home became a reality.

We moved in back in 1999, my late wife, Sarah, and I. The first two years were great, but then things changed. The sickness escalated, and then dear Farah passed away. The house we had restored no longer felt like home, and our joy faded as the days passed by.

Our house is one of the biggest villas in the area, occupying a massive 2,300 square meters. The façade that faces the main street is bordered by large, black gates. When the gates open, guests are greeted with a long driveway, flanked by palm trees on each side. That gorgeous natural pathway ends with the high, striking, three-story white house we call home. At first sight, the place would take anyone's breath away. Layers of glistening glass adorn the front exterior, from top to bottom. To the left is a small, round garden, painted with flowers of all colors. To the right is a sizeable garage that could easily fit four cars.

Although this is the main entrance, it is still far from being the most impressive, as from the back, like all other villas in the area, the house opens to the great Tigris River.

Our white castle, as Sarah calls it, has five bedrooms, two on the second floor and three on the third. The third-floor spaces are luxurious, in baroque style, just the way Farah liked it. Although they vary in size and color, each has the same layout: a seating area at the front, a lovely sofa that perfectly matches the color scheme, and a comfortable bed that faces the outdoors in the back. The hand-carved ceilings are equipped with exquisite hanging chandeliers, giving each room a majestic look. Farah carefully selected the colors for the bed linens and colors, all interwoven with gold. At the far end of each room is a small door that opens to a lovely balcony, facing the river. On those cozy balconies with their panoramic postcard views, it is very easy to get lost in one's thoughts. It is the perfect place to read a book or enjoy afternoon coffee or tea, to enjoy the sunset and become one with the mighty Tigris itself. From that place, that amazing vantage point, all the pains of the hard life in Iraq seem to melt away, all the tiring days of the embargo wafting away into the bliss of surrounding beauty.