Hanan Abu Gazar

879 Basma Street Amman, Jordan 11185

Date: November 15th, 2012

Dear Diary:
What Im about to tell you Ive talked about with nobody because my mind still refuses to accept it. I have endured a
tremendous amount of hardship within the past week and I cannot begin to explain to you what I felt during the whole
time. Let me start with last week when I came home from school and I found my mother lying dead on the ground.
Our humble little home was also crumbled in shambles around her and there were fumes and smoke coming out in
random areas of the now destroyed home. There was no blood around my mother, just scratch marks and some
significant bruises. My father was kneeling next to her sobbing and making manic noises of sorrow and anguish. My
older brother started gathering up what few belongings I had and he stuffed them in my bright yellow rucksack that I
took to school with me that day. Hurry, there is no time.
All I can remember of that day was a lot of pushing and hurried movements. I do know that my memory and sight was
blurred because I genuinely could not comprehend what was happening around me in time. It was as if when my brain
saw the image of my dead mother on the ground it began stumbling in on itself, not understanding anything that was
happening around me after the moment passed. I remember that I moved so slowly and lethargically that my brother
would keep rapping me on my back with his sharp hand. Onward, go, go, come on.
I then remember that my brother brought me to a dock that we had come to when I was a child. Although my brain and
my senses were heavy and delayed, in my mind I knew right then that I would never come to see that dock ever again
without anyone telling me. Wheres dad?, by mind thought sluggishly. It was just my brother and I; he had escorted
me to the dock. I also remember a plastic boat in the water. I didnt realize it then, but the boat was packed with people
of all ages and sizes. My brother kissed me and said a prayer in my ear. With one final push, he shoved me into the
boat with all of the other people that I still didnt even feel were piled up next to me.
Although my brain was only transmitting amorphous shapes to me, I could somehow hear the powerful crying of babies
around me. Their shrieks and sobs were what I myself wanted to participate in but my body was a useless, numb object
that moved in the direction of my brothers persistent pushing. I fell into a spot in the boat and felt the little vessel
lurch beneath me. I looked up on the dock and saw my brothers face for what I am convinced now was the final time Id
see it.
I fell asleep from there on. I dont remember what happened or where my brother and father are. I dont know why my
mother was laying dead at our house when I got back from school or why our house had gotten destroyed. All I knew
was that I would not be returning to Syria again, and that I would be on my own for a very long time.

Yours,
Hanan Abu Gazar