Habibti Dania,
Today, you turn two years old. It’s your second birthday in a world filled with struggles I never wanted for you.
I am heartbroken that you’ve had to endure things no child should ever face. I am so sorry that you’ve lived through nights of bombing, days of hunger, and the harshness of life in a tent. How I wish I could shield you from all of it.
I dreamed of giving you a beautiful celebration, but I’m sorry that everything feels incomplete, even when we try to make it whole. I am deeply sorry that you don’t have a birthday picture with both your mother and father; the occupation stole that memory from us, killing your father, Habibi Roshdi, just before your first birthday.
Forgive me for not being enough. For trying to be both mother and father, sister and brother to you. There are countless apologies I want to give you, but words fall short.
Yet, in the midst of all this, I am deeply grateful for you—you are the single flower that has blossomed in my barren land, the single light that gives me strength.
I love you more than words can say,
Your Mom,
Shrouq Aila
November 6, 2024
