The Balcony by Kamal Farran (2010)
The sun was setting over Beirut as she stood on the balcony. She loved the balcony. It never failed to make her happy, and she tried to have some time on it every day. She didn’t always make it, but today she did. And she was looking forward for a dream or two to come visit her. In the street below, she could see a boy staring at an old woman. He seemed to find something very interesting about her hands but she couldn’t tell from the fourth floor what it was exactly. Her own hands might have also looked interesting to that boy. They were strong and hard. Too hard maybe. Oh, she saw what that boy was staring at. The old woman gave him a chocolate bar she had been carrying. She saw the old woman laughing and hugging the boy and had to turn her eyes upwards. She missed her own boy. Her little angel. How she dreamed of hugging him and kissing him again. She would give him chocolate and gifts. She would smell his hair and tickle his nose. She would take him to the beach. But that had to wait. A bird suddenly flew too close to her that it scared her and interrupted her thoughts. Her eyes followed the bird as it flew away, went behind another building and disappeared. How she wished she could fly like that bird. She would fly to where her son was…
She suddenly spread her wings, jumped off the balcony and soared. She laughed as she felt the thrilling whispers of the wind and felt its erotic caresses. She was soon going through the clouds, and was swiftly kissed by the sun as she sped over them. She flirted with the clouds and the sun. Each was jealous of the other and both competed for her attention. The clouds sent her tickling winds and showed her marvelous shapes. The sun warmed her heart, and reminded her of where she wanted to go.
The sun won. And soon it was only the sun above and the sea below. The ocean called her and she went to it. She felt the cool water on her hardened hands, and let it heal all her scratches and wounds. She felt her hands born anew, and up again she went were the sun waited to warm them and make them soft again. She needed them to be soft, to be able to touch her son with soft, loving hands. And she felt that moment come ever closer, for in the horizon she could now see her island. Adrenaline rushed through her as she glided as speedily as she could towards the island. She saw the white sands of the beach she always went to with her mother. She saw the big palm tree she used to climb with her little brother. She laughed when she remembered how they both got grounded for a month when their parents discovered their palm climbing. Then she saw the little house. She flew slowly towards her home. She absorbed every detail of it with pleasure. She relished in all her childhood memories, and dreamed back to more recent ones. And her heart started dancing when she saw him. Her son came out the front door, and he was every bit the angel she remembered. She called to him, and when he saw her he smiled and ran toward her. She now sped again, and got ever closer to her son, ever closer to the ground. She was about to land on her lovely island of Sri Lanka.
“SHANDRAAAAAAA. STOP WASTING YOUR TIME ON THE BALCONY AND GO BACK TO WORK YOU LAZY COOOOW” The monstrous scream brought her back to reality. Back to Lebanon. Back to the balcony. She took a deep sigh, and went back inside the house to face her constant nightmare. Tomorrow she would again go back to dream in the balcony. But right now her hands had to work and get a little bit rougher. “Coming madame!”