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Shaken and stirred

Children are often unaware of reality outside of their own little world. This holds true regardless of their class, family structure, or geographical location. A child in Syria does not realize that the sound of bombs, snipers, screams and violence are not part of the reality of many other children across the globe. 

Reality is personal particularly with children since they encapsulate it in their tiny little world. They are innocent and have no pre-existing expectations.  It is what it is (to them).

She doesn’t often play on the street. In fact she is more of an indoor girl. But this beautiful sunny October day she bounces a ball in front of her house. The wind softly lifts her long golden hair, perfect temperature, brilliant blue sky, a glorious day. She is alone and content.

A car pulls up across the street from her house. A man rolls down the window and says hello as he smiles and calls out the little girl’s name. She recognizes but does not know the man. Of course he knows her name, he is her father.

The ball stops bouncing, the wind disappears, she feels a chill and her world gets smaller and reduces to this moment,  this man (her father) who has just appeared in her reality. Shaken not stirred. Perhaps a bit stirred? Her heart hurts as she looks at this man she does not know, this stranger, her father.

Reality is sometimes better when left alone. If you cannot be there for your children stay away. This little girl understood that her reality did not include this man, her father. She was okay with that. It was her world. Until today.

Far away in Syria a family heads to safety and towards the border. The children kick rocks along the way and some even attempt to sing. They are surrounded by family and village friends. Some have lost fathers, uncles or entire families.  This too is a child’s reality. A bomb explodes. A handmade doll flies off into the wind. The smoke clears, the group marches on. Syrian parents pray for a new reality. They pray for their children.

We all pray for our children.

She glances at the man who has just suddenly impacted her day, her world, her reality. It was always easier not to think of him. Other children have fathers and her daddy is just a thought neatly tucked away somewhere, in a painful place she has always refused to visit. He is buried deep like a beautiful diamond somewhere waiting to be discovered but somehow impossible to reach. She knows she is not entitled to it and she is okay with that. Diamonds are forever, but not for everyone.

Looking at the man she wonders; why here? Why now? Please just go.

Meanwhile across the globe a young Syrian child loses his father in a local attack and wonders; why here? Why now? Please come back, daddy please come back.

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