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Nothing on top of nothing

As we walked up the stairs the sensation of dead insects crunched underfoot. The odor of pif paf, ( bug spray) rancid heat and crumbling tile permeated my senses and would remain as a permanent trigger for years to come.  

Foof wiggled out of my arms and walked up the last few stairs, gingerly stepping around remnants of cockroaches that lay by the hundreds in the car port area. 

After 25 hours the journey wore on my sagging belly. My body ached and contractions pounded in waves from abdomen to lower back. The unrelenting heat soaked my scarf and undergarments as drops of sweat made a constant pattern down my nose and lips. My mother had warned me about taking such a grueling trip while 8 months pregnant.  I had already delivered 4 babies successfully and needed to make this trip. A job was waiting and it was my duty as wife and mother to follow.  

For the previous 7 years we had lived in a modest home just an hour South of Seattle. Odds and ends of used furniture left behind by friends who returned to their home countries served as a reminder that we were merely temporary.  A tan couch sectional with bits of knobby fibers, 1 queen bed and some pads for the floor were our furnishings until we found a permanent home. 

As we made our way to the top of the stairs a large brown door stood before us. It was clear it had been painted a dull brown in a hurry, most likely hours before we arrived. The two doors met in the middle and overlapped. There were cracks and holes in between the sections. This would later prove to be an entrance for lizards and cockroaches.

The doors opened and inside exposed a hall, indoor outdoor black carpet, walls that were a tan color with specks of white and brown. Lines traced a previous life, t.v., cupboards and a bookshelf, an ominous sign of years to come. 

The living room was empty with the exception of one brown, plastic window placed strategically near a large piece of plywood that was haphazardly nailed over a gaping hole. 

There were two bedrooms, each room was well duplicated and interchangeable with the next, black indoor outdoor carpeting, and a hole covered by plywood. I looked around the room, exhausted from the 25 hours of flights and layovers. Any where would be fine, a bed, a mat, a pillow a blanket. But none of those were present in any room, a house full of nothing. 

The last room was larger than the rest but stood apart as pink cracked tiling replaced rough black carpeting. A lone sink held up by a single counter implied that this was the kitchen. 

18 Comments Post a comment
  1. oh my, can’t wait to read more. You really have experienced so much, an amazing life…and well written.

    Liked by 1 person

    July 25, 2015
  2. What a great start to your story – and what a hard time you had. I’ll look forward to reading more.

    Liked by 1 person

    July 26, 2015
  3. Yes I cant wait to read more!!


    July 26, 2015
  4. You have me squealing ‘more please!’ I’m eager to read the next instalment. What a start – then and now!

    Liked by 1 person

    July 27, 2015
  5. Terri Drexel #

    Great writing Lynn. I am so glad you are doing this!

    Liked by 1 person

    July 27, 2015
  6. Christine Phelan #

    Wow! You have me on the edge of my seat. Will you be here on Thursday?


    July 27, 2015
    • Hi Chris! Thanks for reading! I wont be there on Thursday and it will be great for you two to catch up! But I would love to see you so let’s plan on it please!


      July 28, 2015
  7. In actuality Lynn there is little I know of Saudi other than from a friend in the Military stationed there and his encounters were not pleasant. Women were sub-servant, second class citizens. If one looked or spoke to another male they could and would be tortured. So I am in hopes that your experiences will change my thoughts on any barbaric issues in a land far away from the life I know in sunny Florida with every freedom possible! Your new friend, Cheryl

    Liked by 1 person

    July 29, 2015
    • Well let’s just say this, Just like life any where there are negatives and positives. There are many misconceptions about what it’s like. If you have a good support system then it is good, so the place doesn’t really matter. If you don’t then it is much more difficult! I met lots of cool people from all countries and so many good things about living there. It is very different than here and yes, men and women are separated. My in laws live in Syria and that is way different. I have finally decided to write my experience as therapy haha and coming to terms with it.

      Liked by 1 person

      July 29, 2015
      • Well then I genuflect to you and will be honored to follow and read your story Lynn! Sometimes, writing and keeping a mental journal are the absolute best therapies.

        Liked by 1 person

        July 29, 2015
        • yes I am hoping that healing will happen! I don’t want to put a negative slant on the place but more just my story and how I got to where I am. The place is kind of the back drop haha!

          Liked by 1 person

          July 29, 2015

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