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.
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