I feel normal during day times, but the nights are worse. When I go to sleep, I see my mom in dreams; I see her feeding me and play with my other siblings. I feel happy and everything looks good until I am awake, coming back into reality.
I don’t find my mom and her love anywhere, I see my siblings crying over hunger, especially the younger once. I am 12 but I have to be strong for them, even for my elder brother who is in trauma after the incident. I have to be strong.
A shelling destroyed our house in Syria and that is where my mom lies under the debris of our broken house. I don’t know my father; He passed away when I was too young to remember. Mom had a wedding photo through which we saw our father, but now that picture also lies in that debris.
We don’t know when will be returning to our home again, to our motherland where we took birth. I miss my friends, the garden we played in, music class and my school. I want to become a Doctor, so that when a poor comes for treatment with no money I will provide him with medicines free of cost. I am afraid if I don’t get back to school and start studying, my dreams will die forever.