THIS CHILD IS STILL A CHILD
beatitudes8
At dusk one summer, my family and I were having dinner - a piece of bread dipped in a sauce made by mom from yellow beans. We were watching a wonderful program on TV and my brother and I couldn't help but dance with the melody we hear. Father was clapping his hands while chewing his food; Mom was coming in and out of the kitchen with a plate of salad and more hot tea.
What a joy! We were having so much fun ... so much fun with simple joy and happiness ... simple joy and happiness that no amount of money can buy! I would never exchange the happiness I grew up with ... the people around me ... my family and friends ... my toys ... my pillow ... my bed ... my pets ... my plant.
Suddenly, there was this music from the skies! Yes, air strikes. Father said, they're called air strikes. Mother said, "No, the music, just like Beethoven's music! They're music to the ears. So my brother and I jumped with joy as we hear poundings on the ground, whistles then explosions.
I looked at the window sill ... rushed to see the fireworks against the dark skies ... rushed to wrap my arms around a flower pot ... "She might be scared! But shh, hush, that's Beethoven's music, my dear rose! Look around you, buds of roses! You're all safe with me!"
But he music is getting louder! I could hear screams ... getting even closer! Then, there was silence.
Mom, with her usual sweet smile, told us, "Go wash yourselves, get ready for prayer and for bed. You have to wake up early for school tomorrow."
All set, we recited our prayers and kissed Father and Mother goodnight.
"Good night, sons! Sleep tight. See you tomorrow." Father brushed our curls and hugged us so tight and Mother tucked us to bed with a kiss on our cheeks.
"Good night sons, sweet dreams. We love you!"
"Good night, Mother. Good night, Father." My brother and I hugged each other and closed our eyes.
Then, I found myself waking up differently. Something must have gone wrong! It was so dark. I could smell dust. I could hear moaning ... voices ... They're getting louder, nearer.
Then I saw a flashed light moving around the room ... until it flashed on me. Someone grabbed me and carried me as he walked fast through men and flashes of light.
"Stay here, I'll get back to you, he said as he left me on an ambulance chair.
When he left, people started to come. Their eyes are on me. Some taking pictures and some videos maybe. I don't know and I don't even know why.
But there's a lot of noise outside ... people shouting out names ... shouting like they were crying , too.
Then I felt something oozing on my head. I touched it and saw that it was red. I wiped my hand on the chair I was on and I sat just as still and quiet.
"Where could Mother be? Where's Father? and my brother, where are they," I started asking myself, only in my mind. I told myself, "I'll wait, I'll wait."
But wait, look at these people. Why are they crying? Why are sobbing and shedding tears as they take pictures of me? videos of me? Why? How do I look?
Then I saw one of them, she turned her back on me and faced a man with a big camera. I heard her as she was talking over a microphone.
"These air strikes have been killing so many lives. In this quiet town, innocent lives were pulled from the rubble. Rescue teams rushed to the scene and tried to save lives. Just like this child. He doesn't seem to realize what has happened ... what's happening around him. The rescuers are still in search for his family. When will all these come to an end? The barrel bombs go down on houses of innocent lives. The air strikes intend to stop men who blindly kill because of some ideology. But what about this boy? This child? And he's not alone. There's many of them. Some may have lost their lives. If not theirs, their family, their neighbors, their homes, their friends! Just like this child. He seems to be hopeful, waiting till his mom and dad arrives, perhaps his siblings. This child may not be saying a word, but he is alive. He wants to tell you that he is alive! His must be bleeding outside but when he realizes he has no one to wait for, he'll surely bleed inside. The child may be from the same land where those killers were born, but this child we see here is not one of them. This child is a 5-year old child. He is just a child, hurt, sitting still and silent now but he wants the world to know that HE IS ALIVE!"
