Memory Lane: Trip to Saudi Arabia

I was riding on a jeep on my way home after a tiring day. I was sitting there in the crowded jeep, pressed in between the sweaty, sticky arms of those beside me. I didn't mind the pressure, the force, acting upon their arms, against me. I held on the rusty smelling metal bars as the road began to bump. I faced the windows to see the view of the busy world around me. I was watching the buildings and roads pass by me until I saw the street sign: 1st Street. The sign brings back a distant memory that stayed in my mind for years, a memory that rarely comes, a memory that I treasure.

Upon the sight of the sign, I was transferred to another dimension. I went out from reality to the realm of memories, my memories. I remember the streets of Al-Khobar, Saudi Arabia, that were named ordinally. I remember the jet black night sky contrasting with the beautifully sparkling stars scattered above. The night lights stood out from the darkness of the background. The buildings stood high and their roofs were cut flat. I remember the busy streets filled with the black-coated ladies, and the white-cloaked men with veils of crimson and white. I remember the streets filled with welcoming smiles on the faces of the friendly Filipinos on weekends. I remember hearing the gentle gush of the grass and the sweet melodies of the waves in beaches. The sun may be striking hot, but the moist winds that blow make up for the heat the day brings. I remember reeling a fishing pole and catching one to two fish at a time. I remember the beige sands and the sandstorms that would visit from time to time.

With that simple sign, my memories of my childhood and my hometown came flashing in front of my eyes. A single tear ran across my cheek. I wiped it clean and a gentle smile appeared on my face. Those memories will remain memories, and my hopes of reliving it is still with me.

Subscribe in a reader