Lebanon, the land of borrowed time

It is almost midnight in Beirut, and like every night since September, she waits for her phone to ring. Nearly 8,000 kilometers away, her 18-year-old daughter is finishing her school day and is supposed to call at any moment. It is a pact they made two months earlier, on the day the teenager left Lebanon for Boston to study. "You call me as soon as you wake up, and right after your classes," her mother had made her swear a thousand times.Five, 10, 15 minutes go by, and her phone still doesn't ring. She starts to get impatient. Like every night since September, she grows impatient. She checks the time once again, growing anxious, imagining the worst-case scenario. She takes a deep breath, hoping to calm herself down. A look at... What if I had stayed in Lebanon? Like every night since September, she finally gives in...