When I was 9 years old
I swa my da holing his chest in pain
We took him to the hospital
and he died there.
He used to buy me gifts on Eid.
He used to buy me sweets.
I loved it when he used to take us out on trips.
I miss him so much.
We left our home because of the bomings
and now we live in a tent.
My mom has a sewing machine that she works on.
I know she doesn't make enough money from it.
I know she lives in pain, sometimes I wake up at night
and hear her crying.
I want to go work to help her but she doesnt allow me.
I dont ask my mom for money when I go to school
so I don't make her feel we are poor.
I cry when I see my friend's father's picking them up from school.
When I miss my father, I come to his grave and remember
how he used to me to school in the mornings.
I just wish that I can see my dad to kiss his hands and
thank him for everything he has done for me.
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