Dorian in bloom

Up to now, this blog has been a memoir, written from the journal of my past. It is of the time that I lived in a small Berber village in the deep south of Morocco. It took an hour from the nearest small city and then another thirty minute dusty drive through the open flat desert to the edge of the stone mountains and my village of 2000, an oasis of date palms. I got water from wells and electricity from a village generator, only for a couple of hours each evening. I lived there for two years.

When I left Morocco, I left behind a family that I had grown very close to. In that small village, they took me in and I became part of their family. The shiekh with his two sons and all of their wives and children. They supported me through my father's cancer and taught me their language and culture and laughed at me and my many mistakes. They welcomed me open-hearted, and were with me from the very beginning, when I was so disoriented, to the end, as the Dorian in bloom.

I left twelve years ago and had no contact since. I've thought about them almost every day, though, and dreamed about them often. That experience has remained so close to me. I kept many journals of my time in Morocco and always wanted to share them. It wasn't until four months ago that I decided to start a blog with them.

Magically, a couple of days ago, I received an invitation to chat from M, my "brother" in my village. I didn't receive the message until later and when I saw his name on that email address, my heart skipped a beat. It was like the moment I've been waiting for for such a very long time.

We instant messaged, with his wife and girls beside him. I talked to his daughter N in French and Tashlheit. She's now 22 and studying to be a nurse. She was ten the last time I saw her. One of his other daughters sent me an invitation to video chat when I wasn't at my computer. She was two the last time I saw her. Amazing.

I feel so grateful to have them in my life again, in my present. In fact, I'm feeling so grateful to have all that I have right now, in my present, as the Dorian blooming again.

For many of you, this is the first time you're reading this blog. This is the first time you've even heard of this blog. And I'm sure some of you are asking why it took so damn long for me to give you the address to this blog. The answer is quite simple. I had to let go.

I am letting go...

Here continues my journal of my time in Morocco. For my current life, go to my other blog, Dorian in Bloom.