A Letter to Destiny

By: Fadi Samih Dabbousi
It was exactly 25 years ago on the second of September that you touched my heart in a special way. I was oblivious of the pain that was meant to be but you added your touch with a pinch of sweetness; a measure enough to take me through the twilight zone of age.
That was the day the little details of a perpetual tsunami were being orchestrated and etched in the memorabilia of a passion that would be cloaked in the regalia of renegade wooers and resilient lovers. I made merry with family and friends, “but … but … but where are the butterflies in my chest from?” I wondered then. Like a child heading out to school to write an examination, a tough test of the faculty, so was the throbbing in my heart. It pounded harder and harder, more often than normal, and I was bemused!
But wherefrom would I get an answer when I knew not that the strings of my life were being tuned to play the finest melody to which cupid and its aides would mesmerise the universe with that dance – a well-choreographed masterpiece of flamboyant moves interlaced with the trails of sweet fragrance from the source of love; divine in ecstasy and emotion; a dance that brought to life the birth of a baby - my baby, my love, my heartbeat.
As if by heavenly ordinance, my life became a series of bops and bumps as its lessons were being drawn articulately. They seemed to be strong and everlasting, albeit befuddling, and I could not imagine what I was being groomed for. Little did I know that I was being groomed for the groom that was in me for her; or was I?
Love me tenderly and love me sweet, for a glance at you takes me to eternity and back. A smile from you pulverises me into pulp. The touch of your hand just makes molten lava of this invincible soul…yeah, the irony is in the invincibility of this tough and rugged man, Vaquero if you like, whose only key lies in the bosom of the lady created on that day that his life changed forever.
Oh, lest my gumption runs wild on me and lest I lose grip on sanity, for the ripples within are treacherous without, and although mincing words would not even appropriately describe the tremour in my being, the bones are rattling on seismically with the intensity of an imminent eruption from a volcano of pure passion. This is the passion enacted by the melody of humming birds that have always sung in my ears the tunes of mocking birds and the sweet chirpings of swallows in flight. Birds of magnificent creation made to tell a story – one that was written 25 years ago.
This is for you Nanaama – You are my world and all that is within and beyond. Even if I die and resurrect, I will love no othe. THAT IS A PROMISE!
Happy Birthday My Love!!!