“It’s a lie!” I can remember my mother crying out those words- 15, 16 years ago? She was in the midst of some interminable dispute with her siblings and their spouses and their mom- as usual, I may add- and she cried out “Time does not heal! Whoever said so was lying! It’s been twenty years since our father died, and our problems have just increased, more and more!”

She was right, of course. My mother is always right- it is not what she says, but how she says it that causes oceans to dry up and mountains to crumble to the ground. She delivers arrows of truth barbed with madness and hysteria.

Time does not heal. 2010 was the summer of Troy- we went swimming in Oakland lake every weekend with “Hasan” and his small family and my small family. One time a boy named Troy got lost. His mother walked up and down the beach screaming his name, while the guards shepherded the rest of the horrified beachgoers in a corner and called the police. Troy was found five minutes later by the public restrooms. We talked about it for months later.

That is the point. If I stay in Halifax for the rest of my life, I will still miss going to the beach with “Hasan”, every single time I go to the beach, and every single time I go, I will curse the destiny which has led to our separation. It doesn’t matter if I am just with the kids, or if I am with other people, or not. I am not with my loved ones, and I will go through all the reasons and causes in my mind, every time, tracing how I ended up here, and he ended up somewhere else, and everybody else is in other places altogether.

My children already squabble over where they’re going to live. The princess wants to live in New York, and the Golden boy wants to live with me. The princess wants to live with me too. I don’t want to live in New York. These are important questions, which will shape our life, forever and ever.

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