Letter To My Past Self

By Sese Jabir

Dear Sese,

You’re about five or six right now. You’re living in a country you don’t remember being

to before, and your mother is 5,700 miles away. You’ve never been separated from her for longer

than a weekend, and now you’re going to live with your dad forever. Actually, for six months.

Only, nobody told you it was going to be six months. Plus, six months feels like six years when

you’re five. You don’t know that you’re going to miss your mom like crazy even if you were the

one who decided you wanted to live with your dad. Living with your dad will be the best and

worst couple months of your life. You don’t know that these six months will serve as the

foundation of your father-daughter relationship. You don’t know what to expect from the

following months but you’ll enjoy finding out. Except for the times where you don’t.

You met your stepmother for the first time. You don’t understand why she’s so mean to

you when the two of you are alone, but she acts like she’s your best friend in front of your dad.

You don’t understand her anger yet. In fact, I can assure you, you never will. You’ll never

understand why she married a man with children if she planned on rejecting those children.

You’re about to start the first grade. Most kids would be nervous on their first day of

school, but not you. You’re excited. Your cousin, Jeneen, is the same age as you. Your dad has

pulled a few strings to ensure that the two of you are assigned to the same class. It hasn’t even

been your first day of school yet, and you already made a friend. You don’t know that making

friends is actually the easiest thing in the world when you’re five.

It’s your first day of school and Jeneen is telling you about how excited she is that you

live in Palestine now because now she has a best friend. You’ve never had a best friend before
either and you’re excited at the thought that she might be yours. You don’t know that the two of

you will grow apart one day, and that your real best friend is another little girl you’ll befriend

one year later: Zane. Zane will be your best friend that you have known and loved since you

were six. You’ll want to be friends with Zane in the first grade, but you won’t make an effort

until the second grade, out of “respect” for Jeneen. You feel obligated to stay best friends with

Jeneen even though the only thing you have in common with her is blood. I want you to know

that the sense of obligation to appease her you had when you were five doesn’t go away. It’s one

of the reasons you grew apart. I want you to know that it’s okay to be friends with Zane in the

first grade. In fact, I insist you talk to her in the first grade. Because what you don’t know is that

she’s going to move to America three years later and you’re going to regret that you didn’t speak

to her sooner.

You’ve been dreading going to school lately. Learning how to speak Arabic is a struggle

as it is, but learning how to read and write Arabic is absolutely burdensome. Your dad has you

attending several tutors in an effort to help you out. You’re too young to appreciate all the help

he’s offering, and the fact he’s never been a single parent before. You don’t remember a time

where he used to leave for school before you woke up and came home after you went to bed. You

never had to deal with that but your siblings did. You’re too young to understand why succeeding

in Arabic class is so important to him. You don’t understand that being the first one of his

children to fail a class makes him feel like he’s failed as a parent.

Even as your grades have improved, you still despise the concept of school. You found

out that your mom will be coming home soon, so you’re looking forward to that. You’ve been

taking advantage of the fact your dad’s overly paranoid about your health. You got sick a lot

when you were a baby so you don’t really get sick anymore. Of course, he doesn’t know that. He
only remembers the endless nights where you kept him and mom up to unholy hours. You’ve

been faking symptoms in the bathroom every day you didn’t feel like going to school because

you knew he’d call the principal and say you were sick.

Your mom just came home, and you missed her so much. Your mom and dad came up

with an arrangement where she makes sure you wake up, and he makes sure you get to school.

You might think you can’t take advantage of their divorce anymore, but you’re a very creative

little girl. In just a couple months, you’ll learn that asking your mom to pack you a lunch, and

then asking your dad for lunch money, is the best way to boost savings. Enjoy the next seven

years Sese, they’ll be the best and worst years of your life.