As July turned to August in 2006, Lebanese citizens began to throng the border with Syria.
Israel had started its assault on Hizbollah and the south of Lebanon was being destroyed by air strikes. Many fleeing the conflict took refuge in Syria.
At the border, I watched as hundreds of cars, filled with suitcases, boxes and frightened-looking children, queued to cross. Many of the refugees were solidly middle-class, doctors, engineers or businessmen who never would have imagined themselves as refugees waiting at a border of their country to escape a bombing campaign.
But the most remarkable aspect was the way ordinary Syrians extended their welcome, allowing strangers to share their homes.
In Damascus, Syrians opened their hearts and houses to their fellow Arabs. Schools and sports stadiums were turned into makeshift accommodations. Businesses in the Old City put up signs offering free water or soft drinks to any Lebanese. This was not a top-down order from the government; it was a genuine outpouring of support. The sign seen most often around the city said simply: "We are all Lebanon."
Six years on, and the exodus is going the other way. With the uprising against the rule of Bashar Al Assad now in its second year, and with the regime responding with brute force, thousands have fled to neighbouring countries. The UN refugee agency estimates 32,000 Syrians have left in the last year, with about 8,000 going to Lebanon.
Yet this incipient refugee crisis highlights the convoluted politics of the region. The arrival of Syrians on Lebanese soil poses a serious challenge to Hizbollah, the military-cum-political organisation that supports, and is supported by, the Assad regime.
Hizbollah is predominantly a Shia organisation - it draws fighters and donors from the ranks of Lebanese Shiites, and wider political, financial and military support from Iran. Yet as a political force, Hizbollah has been careful to define itself as a Lebanese party, as a group standing up for Arab rights against Israel's encroachment. The group has wide support among Arabs in many countries and is almost unquestionably the strongest non-state military actor in the region.
But the refugee crisis - and the broader Syrian uprising - is testing Hizbollah's support, or rather exposing the daylight between its leadership and the broader Lebanese population.
Earlier this month, Hizbollah's second in command, Naim Qassem, said the group could not accept the presence of Syrian refugee camps in Lebanon. This stance has drawn criticism from many Lebanese, most of whom have broad sympathies with ordinary Syrians - there are family, business and friendship links between the two countries.
For Hizbollah, the issue of refugee camps is ostensibly about security - the group has said it does not want camps to become staging posts for attacks on the Syrian regime, which might then retaliate on Lebanese soil, drawing the two countries into conflict. The group maintains its first priority is still the Lebanese people.
Yet there is a larger dilemma for the group. In 2006, Hizbollah, the overwhelming majority of Lebanese, the Syrian regime and most Syrians all found themselves (broadly) on the same side: the politicians and public opinion were outraged by Israel's attacks on Lebanon. After the month-long conflict ended ambiguously, with Israel failing to achieve its military goals, it was widely seen as a victory for Hizbollah, and Mr Al Assad garnered some political capital for supporting the party.
As the Arab uprisings gripped Tunisia and Egypt, Hizbollah cheered the activist-led revolutions. When Egyptian president Hosni Mubarak stepped down after overwhelming public protests, Hizbollah hailed it as an "historic victory" for Egyptians. "Hizbollah is filled with pride over the achievements of the Egyptian revolution," party statements said, and its supporters took to Lebanon's streets to celebrate.
But in Syria's uprising, the party is torn; unwilling to accept the fall of its chief Arab patron, but conscious that Mr Al Assad is killing his own people to secure his rule.
Hizbollah has tried not to take sides, but as the death toll has mounted it has become harder to maintain neutrality. With Hamas leaving Damascus and coming out against the Assad regime, the pressure on Hizbollah has increased. Silence, in effect, is taking sides.
It is getting harder for the party to maintain its line. Last Thursday, Hassan Nasrallah, the party's secretary general, suggested that the regime should seek a political solution to avoid plunging the whole region into chaos. This caution, stopping short of calling for Mr Al Assad to step down or lead a transition, implies that the group still sees him as a legitimate ruler, something which increasingly the Arab world does not.
This daylight between Hizbollah and public opinion is dangerous for the group, especially as the political language in the region takes a more sectarian tone. If Hizbollah cannot place itself on the right side, especially of the Lebanese on whom it depends, the party's position may change. Arabs, especially majority Sunnis, may increasingly see Hizbollah as a nakedly Shia organisation, willing to sacrifice people for its ideological goals.
If the Assad regime continues its brutal crackdown and still collapses, it may take the region's most powerful non-state military along with it.
On Twitter: @FaisalAlYafai
