Fifty years have passed since the separation. The ruins still stand high, silently overlook the town's houses behind the market while hiding old houses built many years ago. Half a century has passed since that departure.

Pictures of the city's dramatic events still adhere to its roots in the land of memory. All fresh as if they happened yesterday.. The family has departed, the souls have separated and the love ones have scattered. People have parted beyond the mountain where the horizons are far …

Silent ruins elegized by history and lamented by birds have become the dwelling of crows and the field of colocynths .. Yet , the man still longs for seeing them , at least before the inevitable death reaches him ... 

He was twenty years old when they were asked to leave … He and his family were in a barren valley . The ground was rough and the desert was so cold and they couldn't do anything about that . They stayed in that situation until the " righteous people " granted them with a tent, blankets and some food and water . The wheels of time didn't stop or wait for anyone.. They continued to be silent while crushing one year after another.. They played with him to the right and to the left as a leaf flying being crushed ..And " Abdullah " didn't cease to challenge them with his strong determination and his firm faith and to reject the piasters and the dirhams offered to him.. He continued to gather his grandsons and granddaughters and to tell them about the story of an enchanting city that had fascinated and attracted people from everywhere .It was a city that offered prosperity and welfare .

It time for him to see it ..It is the first time in fifty years.. With an American passport? Why not .. Nothing will happen .. Yes, he will go there with an American passport .. This is all he can do .. Flying in an American airplane too … But he will breathe its air … smell its soil … and walk in its streets …He waited so long !

He was allowed to come as a tourist for two weeks only . He got the visa after he had waited for three weeks . First he intents to visit " Lydd "and then Jerusalem ..

I wonder how will find you " Lydd " ?

Do you miss us as we miss you ??

Only if you knew how we missed you after we had been driven out scared .

What happened to you after we left you ?

There is no trace for the houses … but the mosque near our house and in which we used to pray in is still there …

Oh ! " Lydd " Oh ..

The road to " Lydd " on Saturday is clear and the driver finds only few cars and a lot of crows that come down to feed on dead cats or dead dogs or dead birds along the roads ..after being smashed with cars' wheels .

The sun has slightly risen its rays and it is about to reach noon..

" Hashem " was driving his car at a very unusual speed ..He felt that strange speed as he remembered that he was about to lose his driving license . He remembered that in the next junction there was a policeman with a radar who used to hunt hasty drivers one after another … H also remembered his friend " Mahmood " who had lost his driving license due to high speed ..

He was forced to drive at an appropriate speed and to be disciplined..  
It was a bit after ten thirty when " Hashem " parked his car near a market that has always been alive . It was " Tuesday Market " ..

      Fifty years ago he used to sell clothes, leathers and dates in this market.. in addition to many products made by peasants , workmen and others

As the two men came out of the car , " Abdulla " rushed and kneeled down for a while then started kissing the ground and wiped his face with the dirt without paying any attention to those who stared at him in amazement .

      He kept looking towards the minaret of the mosque till he remembered the quarrel that broke out between the local merchants near this mosque which led to the death of one of them.. Then he remembered that demonstration which started next to him and moved towards the market before being stopped by the English police that arrested five demonstrators . Those five demonstrators were tortured by the soldiers and were killed . Each time he sees a demonstration or policemen with sticks , he remembers the sad events of that incident ..

      He remembered his first love " Zeena " , the daughter of hajj " Maaroof " .He still remembers the frustrating conditions her father put forward as he asked for her hand..

He remembered how many times he met her during the picking season of olives near the vineyard of " Ahmad Al-Maamoni " where he had given her beautiful presents !!..

Beautiful days of childhood of youth , the first days of youth .. Days that he still

years for .. A huge housing building drew his attention . The building stood against the market from the east . It was built on the same spot that the houses of " Mahmood Al-Khalal " and his neighbors used to be . His heart burned with pain when he saw the olive mill . Part of it had turned into rubble while the other part had become a den of drug addicts . His eyes sparkled and two hot tears slipped from his eyes and touched his wrinkly cheeks . Five decades have passed and his house is seen only in his daydreams.

He couldn't believe his eyes when he saw his house and its walls without being affected by the force of change. Nature did not change any color or any stone . It remained in the same place . .. Yes , it is the house .. the house … the same house " Hashem !! .. "

Entering into the house was an adventure in itself … Entering into the house might not be the same as leaving it .. It has new owners and the old ones are scattered trough The wide world… Hajj " Abdullah " ! why do you want to enter ? Isn't it enough to see it from outside ?

" Abdullah " insisted to enter the house despite the fears and concerns of his driver and his repeated attempts to talk him out of it . The driver thought that he would get into an useless argument with the owners or he might get excited and say unnecessary words .. Also , somebody might call the police and this would put them in serious troubles …

He knocked three times … then three times more …. The door was opened and the foreigners were asked what they wanted … They were allowed to come in … This was not because the fat woman , who was forty years old and who had her hair colored in yellow , felt sorrow for him ..nor because she was generous and wanted to show her generosity to the Arabian from America ..but because she wanted to hear the story in details ..She likes to hear stories… It is only a story .

As in the old days , he entered into the yard with his right leg and then blessed God in a loud voice . With a beating heart and tearful eyes , he started reviewing the changes at the house . The woman opened the doors for him ..one after another..

      Moving from one room to the next , he reached the room where he and his eight bothers were born in . Silently he stood , recalling , as he looked around , its wooden door that was closed when his brother was born . He remembered how he had brought the midwife after searching all the houses for two hours . She came out to bring the good news of " Ab-Elrahman's " birth , his brother .

Everything stood still , quiet and anxious .. She was alert and cautious .. She asked his companion to translate every word and to be honest..She expected to hear touching words that express his inflamed emotions .. Yet, he remained silent . His silence was about to tell the whispers and stories of the dead ..The silence was too much as the features of the Sheikh changed . He closed his eyes . His limbs dropped and he fall down . His heart is silent now and he is taking a deep nap in an eternal silence.