Screaming Souls

No no, kids are not naturally clean and quiet. They are germy and loud and egocentric and whiny. Of course, some are better than others, and some are way worse...the natural state of a human soul is a spectrum; it is neither purely good nor purely bad. Its nature is not rigid like a stone, but fluid, having tendencies to swing this way and that, like a pendulum, its direction influenced by singular events as well as millions of little prods and jabs in the form of stickers, smiles, and scalding stares, of images, words and deeds...

Erbil during September and Erbil during December are two very different places. The last time we had gone to Tarin, it was so warm outside and bats flew around above our heads as we ate outside at long tables, our dinner plates lit by the dozens of lamps that lined the walkways. By now, it was too cold to eat outside, so all the long tables had been whisked away, the lamps remained unlit, the gazebo-bar stood dark and lifeless, and the fountains with their neon lights no longer ran with water. Still, despite the cold weather and lack of life, we hit the playground afterward, flying on the seesaws and kiddy swings (where I had to keep my knees unbent so my feet wouldn't hit the ground), and climbing the rocky fountain and screaming our heads off at the stars.

Well, it might have been just me screaming. Screaming can be very cathartic. Like during Roadtrip 2006, when Sarah and I would roll down our windows, stick our heads out and scream as the wind swept past our faces at 90 miles an hour. Like some of my 2nd graders after any given math lesson, when they just randomly start screaming at extremely high pitches for no goddamn reason.