When I was a child, I had a friend who was so beautiful, with red hair and big eyes. She also had a smile that was so beautiful. We were really happy. We were living next to each other, always playing together and going to the same school, but sometimes she was annoying before we went to school. She would come early to wake me up, and I was angry because I didn’t want to go to school because the weather was getting colder. She knocked on the door to tell my mum to wake up and send me to school.
Then we went to school together, and she bought something hot for her and me, and we drank it on our way to school. While we were walking, we talked and laughed about how she woke me up, and when we arrived, the bell rang, and we went to a different class, but on the break, we met to play together. After that, we went home and played outside.
We made dresses for Barbies and sometimes played like a family, acting like mum and sisters, making food.
We were really funny, like if we hadn’t seen each other for a short period of time we were writing messages on paper and sending them to each other we would write the message Hi How are you? I miss you. But they stole our happiness when they killed her dad in the war, when our houses were destroyed, when we lost the Barbies, when the messages because of blood, when the schools crashed.
We lived just a few days together in the war when the situation became difficult: No water, No food, and No safety. The bombs were all night, and nobody was feeling safe. We thought if we slept, we would not wake up, but her dad was working as a baker and needed this work to help his family and the people. One night, her dad died when the bomb fell on his work. We couldn’t go outside to play because it wasn’t safe. They left the city and left me. It’s been ten years since I last saw her. When I left the country, I tried to find her on the internet, but couldn’t find her. I don’t know where she is. But she is still in my heart, and I hope to see her again or hear anything about her to say how much I miss her.
This was written by our contributing writer, Hamida Khoder.
Image Source: Freepik, prostooleh
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