He’s From Where Jasmine Grows And Mornings Start With Steamy, Black Tea

In the third installment of poems from Syrian refugees, Majed Kaboor describes the sights and scents that trigger memories of home.

By Joy DiazDecember 30, 2019 1:14 pm, ,

Where I’m From No. 3

I am from pomegranate trees, from big, juicy peaches and sweet grapes growing on vines that cover the roof of our house. From the smell of fresh lemons on the tree near the pond that has a fountain.

I am from a farming community where large families share what they grow.

I am from steamy black tea, fresh-baked bread and the smell of coffee in the morning. From my family eating breakfast outdoors in the cold morning air.

I am from harsh rain hitting the windows and the scent of jasmine in my grandmother’s courtyard. I am from the sounds and smells of celebrating Eid. From jingling coins and giggling kids. From the aroma of spicy, hot barbecue and fresh date cookies my cousins and I ate at my grandmother’s house.

I am from the smell of strong cologne and cigars in my parent’s room, where everything was neat. From the butter-flavored candy hidden there.

I am from those good memories that happened in my home, Syria.