Ghazal Mhanna, 15 — Trainers’ Academy, Tulkarm
He sat on his bench in the garden sipping his coffee quietly, enjoying the warm sunshine and the gentle spring breeze. Usaid glanced towards the wall to find that its shadow had disappeared…
Come On, Darling, Get Up
Nora Abu Maizar, 15 — Hebron
That voice has stayed in my memory since childhood… that gentle voice full of tenderness that woke me every morning: ‘Come on, darling, get up, let’s go out.’ I would open my eyes with difficulty to see him standing at the door in all his dignity and presence, smiling, coming towards my bed and pulling me by the hand to make me get up. We would go out for a walk, and sometimes we would just sit and talk and laugh. They were very simple moments, but for me they were a whole world of warmth and joy.
My father was a different kind of man… strong, bold, afraid of no one. He was known among people for his powerful character. But despite all that strength, he had a heart tender beyond description. His tenderness overshadowed his strength, his kindness overcame his toughness.
Horses were what he loved most in life; raising and riding them was his passion. He felt there was a special bond between him and them; when he swayed atop one he felt like a king enthroned upon a horse. Alongside the horses he also had sheep he cared for, spending long hours with them as though they were part of his life and soul.
Around him there were always very close friends, among them Iyad and Hamza. Their friendship was strong; they worked together and helped each other in everything. Often they would ride horses together and roam about, laughing and talking for hours.
But one day everything changed. Occupation soldiers stormed our house and arrested him. After his arrest the house became desolate and silent, and life felt as though a large part of it had suddenly vanished. Eighteen years have passed now with him away from us, and four more years still separate us from his return. Oh, how long those four years are.
Sometimes I imagine him there, remembering everything… remembering the horses he loved, the sheep he cared for, his friends who shared laughter and time with him. And remembering the house… and remembering me when I was small, when he used to wake me from sleep.
But despite all the years that have passed, my memories with him have never faded. Rather, they have become dearer to my soul and closer to my heart. I am still waiting for the day he returns, when his laughter will fill the house once more with joy and life… Only then will I feel that a large piece of my heart has returned to its place. Then that voice will return to my heart and I will hear him say: ‘Come on, darling, get up… let’s go out today.’
The End
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