I live in Arabia – well in what is identified as the Arabian Peninsula anyway. It is a huge stretch of desert and at time that sand blows so hard that you cannot see two feet in front of you. The summer heats scorch the ground making it too hot to walk on, and the air is heavy and thick. It seems mysterious at times. It seems even mystical and magical. But it is home.
Our daughter was born here. She knows what a date tree is, and she asks for camel milk. She knows what an Abaya and Dishdasha are, and she understands the difference between the two. She listens to the call to prayer, which happens five times a days, and the sounds causes wonder and delight. It does not cause fear. She has been brought up in Arabia. American passport, but Arabian by birth. She understands the kindness of strangers, the importance of smiles, and the difference between Islamic and Christian holidays. At times living here feels as foreign as the language first did upon arrival six years ago. However over time it has softened. Over time the differences between customs and cultures blur and one sees more similarities than anything. And now we know that in this moment this is our home.