As Long as the Lemon Trees Grow

by Zoulfa Katouh

“Your life is just as important as theirs,” he interrupts, his voice leaving no room for negotiation. “Your. Life. Is. Just. As. Important.”

They need help that isn’t in Homs. They both need to be allowed to be children.

I may escape from Syria. My feet could touch European shores, the waves of the sea lapping against my shivering legs and the salt air coating my lips. I would be safer. But I won’t have survived.

I know I could easily love him. In a might life with the fantasies I orchestrated for myself, it would be so easy to fall for his lopsided smile and passionate dreams.

Survivor’s remorse is a second skin we are cursed to wear forever.

“Proposing on the revolution’s anniversary?” His eyes twinkle. “I’ve been planning this for a week.”

It reminds me that as long as the lemon trees grow, hope will never die.