How are you supposed to feel when you have to cram your entire life into a bag?

March 12, 2018

A small backpack. It can’t be heavy. You can only pack the most important belongings: identification papers, valuables that can be sold (that’s if there’s anything valuable left), one change of clothes. You might consider packing some bread if you had any. You can’t pack your bed. Your closet. The sofa by the window where you used to rest and drink Nescafe while your daughter played in the room. You can’t pack your kitchen or your favorite glass.

You can’t pack your personal hygiene products. Maybe just the deodorant. Nothing else.

You can’t pack your favorite outfits. The ones you’ve worn to special occasions. The ones that are linked to good memories. You have to leave them all behind.

Your kid has many favorite toys. But you have to tell her to pick just one!

Do you pack winter or summer clothes?

Your pain may lead you to leave your soul at home to protect it and guard your memories there, the good ones and the bad.

You remember the first time you entered it. You remember hiding in the corridor during the bombing. The day you cooked a delicious meal in peace.

You remember your baby’s laughter filling the house and the entire world around you. You remember the spot where she fell and God protected her. The spot where she crawled the first time and where she walked her first steps. You remember the day you had a fight with your life partner in that room, and how you made up shortly after because life is too short to stay mad at each other.

There are many details you want to engrave in your memory and never forget.

How are we to forget?

How are we to leave?

It is our right to live safely in our homes. It is our right to breathe fresh air. It is our right to see the sun and drink Nescafe by the window. It is our right to see our children playing peacefully. It is our right to live!

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