ZIAD IN GAZA

 Ahmad confides in us that the oldest grandchild has been upset, since she hasn’t seen her friends in a long time. She also said that she wishes she could go out on trips like they used to.

I knew that the girl likes to draw and colour, so I ask her if she would like to draw something together.

Since there is no light, my sister turns on the torch on her tablet and we start drawing. She suggests we draw a garden, a tree, the sun and flowers. While we are drawing, she asks me: “Are there blue flowers? Because I want to use blue to colour one of them.”

“Of course there are,” I tell her. “And even if there aren’t, feel free to use any colour you want. It is your painting; be creative. And you know what? I will draw one flower on my side in blue.”

I pick up my phone and go through my photos until I find pictures of some bouquets I have bought in the past. One of them had a blue flower that I showed to her. She is surprised.

Manara, the cat, who is staying with us tonight, comes and sits on my lap and starts watching us while we draw. The girl picks up the paper and asks Manara her opinion regarding colours and the number of flowers. She also asks her if she likes the painting and we both agree that since she keeps looking at it, she does.

When we finish, she proudly shows my sister our painting. We start playing cards. Her mother comes in to check on her. She asks her if she is having a good time, the girl smiles and nods that she was.

After an hour and a half of painting, we start packing up and she tells me how much she wishes to see a blue flower in person.

I tell her: “When all of this is over, I promise that I will visit you and I will bring you a huge bouquet of flowers. And in the centre, there will be a blue one.”

She smiles, thanks me and my sister and then leaves.

 Lying on the couch, I think about everything that happened in the day. I think about the generosity of the hosting family in these hard times; how they are helping others when they themselves need help.

In these hard times, being kind is one of the most difficult things to do, but the hosting family and many people around me do it effortlessly.

I think of the father who could not enjoy the first time his daughter walked. And I wonder, how many “firsts” she will have that will not be celebrated?

I think of the many flowers I have received and given throughout the years. And I wonder, will I ever be able to fulfil my promise to the granddaughter?