ii.2

NEW GLASS

BY ANONYMOUS

I remember asking my mom that night “can’t we call someone and tell them to make it stop? How about the President or the Pope?”

I was eleven years old and I had just felt the earth shudder and watched the hills explode in flames as bombs were dropped on my country. I call it“mine” because once someone tries to destroy something dear to you, you can’t help but call it your own and try to tug it back from their reach. But when has land ever belonged to any person?

The sound of bombs dropping kept me up all night and my stomach was tied in knots as I curled up between my parents on the floor. The question I posed to my mom remains with me till this day because I spent that sleepless night mulling it over. Over and over I thought about who I wanted to call and yell at – who I wanted to call and cry to and beg to and plead to make it stop - and continuously I came up blank.

My gut instinct till that point had always been to reach for my parents when I felt threatened but there they were, beside me on the floor; and tremors rippled through that floor all night long.

That night I was confronted with forces that I didn’t know existed and didn’t know how to resolve. They were dark and beyond my understanding but would forever change the way I saw the world and would ultimately shape the way I understood the concept of justice. But what’s an eleven year old to do with justice?

I kept my eyes open all night but my nightmare was reality.

As dawn broke I woke with my mom and walked with her towards the living room in silence. She grabbed a broom and started sweeping. As the light of a new day forced its way between the clouds, she answered my question before I had to ask: “we can’t put it back together, but we can buy new glass.”