"A Wedding in Aleppo" by M. K. Martin

We are having a wedding in our restaurant. All morning, my younger brother, Hamid, has been scampering like a skinny, tail-less monkey, hanging lights in our cypress trees. We have the last standing cypress trees in Aleppo, so says my father. Baba spent the morning moving tables and chairs, dividing the main dining room so the women can be on one side and the men on the other. I help by hanging flowers and streamers from the walls. I hang stars and moons and suns from the ceiling. They’ll look down on us and bless my best friend’s marriage. At least they’re happy for her.