leaving hell

Leaving hell, leaving behind the past 8 months, i see the hot sands underneath me, transitioning from hot empty sands to a slowly filling desert, the buildings a patchwork of tans, with gray stitching making up the quilt of Iraq. The cars drive by, like any other city, reminding me that life goes on outside of the war. Trails of barriers we leave behind, looking like little walls of china, each of them wandering on their own paths. An area of trash looks gorgeous in the sunlight, parts of the trash glinting like diamonds in the rough. Landing at my stop for the day, the heat hits me like a dragons breath, hot and ripe with indescribable smells, making me wonder what causes such an odor to pervade the world. The tree leaves look like parchment paper left in the sun too long, but are far more brittle than parchment paper. The man made lakes are emeralds surrounded by rough earth, the lake houses tanned by the constant sun, a stark reminder of the environment out here. Riding around in a ford explorer hearing pop music from the states, i feel myself at odds with the area around, because i see life normally, none of the work that i do daily seems to be here, no smell of diesel fuel, no growling beastly generators sounding off their daily noises. The remnants of Baghdad's previous life, can be seen in the stores and life here, the marble tiling of the floor in a store contrasts vividly against the tan of my combat boots. Eating at the restaurant here I hear more familiar music from the states and see the MTV Made show on the flat screen, a sharp contrast to the weapons and variety of uniforms around me. A destroyed palace is frozen in time, the cranes looking like ancient creatures, their static forms never changing. The workers scurry along like busy beavers repairing the damage to the world, oblivious, not caring that we are standing across another man made lake, focusing on restoring some sanity to their lives after seven years of war. We head to the main shopping area of this station, a store reminiscent of mega stores, with a military touch and needs, reminding me of what i am doing here. On the flight line, my cohort and i gear up to head back to my hell, ending this little vacation and break from the norm, yet is it really the norm for me ever.