A month ago the campaign against us began and for a month we have been dying, siege upon siege and waiting for what everyone expects, but when this happens depends on the parties who are around the table in what resembles a card game where everyone so often someone takes charge of the game..
During the entire month we have become very tired, losing patience, we have no more energy to speak about the horrors that are happening. What we are doing most while trapped in the shelter is to talk about our memories..
Our memories are always about traveling or work or funny situations. Uncle Abu Ziad tells us about his travels between different areas of #Syria, about farming and his land in Shifonieh which he can no longer reach, where he had prepared what we call “summer crops”.
As for Abu Fares, his house in Misraba is gone and he cannot reach it, regardless of whether it was reclaimed [from the regime], he cannot return to his home where on the rooftop his son made a seating area with roses and basil and which has all different kinds of birds which I am currently learning about via conversation, and about relaxing in summer and [practicing] a chill hobby..
I hear my mom and female neighbors talking about how they raised us, here we remember how Osama, Adam, and Anas take care of the crying aspect, and here my mom goes back in history to remind them of my childhood and how much I used to cry..
I dream, and pray often, that we continue to hear about these memories from their very owners, Uncle Abu Ziad will soon, by God’s will, become a grandfather, I would like to see if his grandchild is going to be calm, or loud like our current life… and awaiting deliverance.