Trees are such patient creatures. We kick their roots when angered, make out under their branches when loved and chop them to pieces when cold... however they always manage to grow back standing tall, tolerating our stupid human actions and our stupid changing moods. They witness every event, regardless of the season, and they sympathize with us... All that because trees are such patient creatures.
I
remember one particular
Tree, it stood tall right in the center of the Grand Lycée yard. We would play next to it during recess hours and it would keep us protected in case of rain or excessive sun. I remember being punished once for climbing on its branches and I remember the teacher telling me "Mais voyons Nicole! vous êtes une jeune fille et non pas un singe!". I remember me waiting for her to turn her back before climbing back up on that tree, and I remember that tree witnessing that fight. I also remember another thing which that tree witnessed, and I remember it perfectly fine: My first heartache.
The first time I fell in love was at the age of ten. My dad drove me a bit earlier than the school bus would have driven me, because he had work at the hospital. So I waited patiently for them to open the gate. While I was waiting, another boy arrived. He was a bit different than other ten year old kids... he had an earring. I looked at him carefully, that morning. I noticed his little nose, his white teeth (despite him missing one), his sparkling eyes and his light brown
hair. I memorized the way he walked, the way he shouted whenever that ball stopped at his foot and even the color of his earring. I would wait for him with my three friends whenever recess started, and would watch him climb up the stairs at the end of it. I would run into him every Friday at 2:00pm, since we were both signed up for afternoon activities. I would be the only one in Gym volunteering to run outside and get water, just to see him kick that ball in his soccer practice. Soon enough, all of the students in my 8ème G (or was I in 8èmeD?) class knew that "Nicole est amoureuse d''Alexandre". His name was Alexandre... Harb, Habr... now it''s a bit blurry, I can''t exactly recall. What I recall is the fact he was a ten year old kid with his ear pierced. Becoming a marketer, I now know that the "word-of-mouth" strategy is a pretty effective one. It has proven its effectiveness back then, when the word got to Alexandre, from one mouth to another... One day, I saw his entire class (I think he belonged to the 8ème B) grouped around him with one girl next to him whispering in his ears. The bitch had blond hair, not really sure whether it was straight or curly... so to be on the safe side, let''s suppose her hair was wavy. So, the bitch with the blond wavy hair whispered in his ear that I was in love with him and that she would point me out. Pissed off, he told her to bring him to me. It was
totally unacceptable for him to be loved by a girl! A girl! Yuck!!!
I remember my heart pounding, and so ironically, so was my friend''s (My friend Rania, from Diary entry#31). We had to run away, but our feet wouldn''t move. When they finally moved, we ran towards a black gate. It used to be opened all the time... Unfortunately the only exception was on that day. It was locked. So I was there, my back turned to that black ironic gate and there he was... in front of me. He looked at me with angered eyes, and... slapped me! Noticing Rania next to me, he slapped her as well... beats me why, he just did. And all I could think of at that moment was not the humiliation nor the stupidity of that young kid... I just remembered how I used to try and "steal" pictures of him, taking them with my own camera on Fridays after gymnastic... I thought to myself "If I had that camera with me now, that would be the clearest
picture I could ever take of him". Rania cried. I never did. I just kept talking to her as if nothing happened. The tree witnessed it all... I four at that tree... no one could notice my humiliation, it protected me strong enough.
That year ended and I was to switch schools at the end of it. We threw the traditional "fair well" party at the last day of school, and somehow I felt it was all for me, even though it wasn''t. And I remember that day...how, before I went inside the bus... I took my camera, poked Alexandre, waited for him to face me completely...and pressed on that capture button as hard as I could before running away as fast as I could... He never caught me and I never caught that perfect picture. It turned out to be as blurry as Alexandre''s last name is to me today... But as far as he knows, I took that picture of him, whether he liked it or not, I never gave up. The only one who smiled to me at that gesture I did was that tree... After all, That tree taught me that the only thing that pays off is patience and persistence.
And now, ten
years later... I totally
forgot how hurt I was when he slapped me on the face. I totally forgot his last name, despite me hesitating between Harb and Habr. I totally ignore what Alexandre became today, whether he still has that piercing and whether he now owns a "mobilette" that goes with it. I totally forgot that girl''s name who snitched on me and I totally forgot how Rania stopped crying. I totally forgot where I placed that picture and I totally forgot what I told my mom about it... However I remember how happy I was feeling all victorious and how I never quit before taking that picture.
(09/21/07- 12:04am- Lebanon)
More reviews about the "Dear Diary"- And now... ten years later, I totally forgot.