Today is this little one’s birthday…

Innocent eyes, tender heart,

Sari, our family’s beloved youngest, who suddenly grew up without me even noticing.

I truly wonder…

I wonder about these merciless years that pass by,

years in which we see nothing beautiful that makes life worth living,

or worth surviving for…

I don’t know how the years passed with such terrifying speed,

and how our child turned into a witness to things no small heart should ever see.

Habibi, my beautiful Sari…

my beloved in particular, and the beloved of his father, mother, and siblings as well.

The one we almost lost again and again in this genocide.

In October 2023,

the building that housed the café where he worked was bombed.

All our hearts stopped the moment it collapsed under the rubble.

From the terrifying sound of the explosion,

from the horror of the smoke that reached our home,

we all stared like mad people and said: Sari has been martyred.

Before he returned to us alive…

a miracle walking on two feet.

That day, my brother Yasser ran barefoot from sheer terror,

screaming in the neighborhood with the neighbors:

“I’m going to bring my brother’s remains…”

Mama fainted and her blood sugar spiked…

We almost lost her.

And we almost all died of fear before dying of grief.

…

And he almost slipped away from us again and again.

The second time…

because of his stubbornness and insistence on going to the fucking “aid” distribution centers in terrifying Kisufim…

those places we called.. and still call “death traps.”

And many other times,

while chasing death trucks on Salah Al Din Street,

a street filled with killing and death…

…

Every time we tried to stop him…

we tried and tried,

but to no avail.

He was stubborn and refused to see my mother without food to take with her medicine,

and the same for me and my sister.

Every time, I, my mother, and all my siblings tried to stop him…

but he was harsher and more stubborn than our fear.

And when hunger became severe,

even the rest of my brothers and Hassan were forced to follow him

to get a handful of food for their children…

because famine leaves no choices.

…

And just three months ago,

a bullet fell from the sky,

and almost took his life in a single moment…

It did not hit him,

but it hit my aunt’s son who was sitting beside him.

…

Sari lost his friends,

his loved ones,

and his childhood.

He even lost the tenderness and pampering of his father,

who had been giving it to him since the moment he was born.

He lost his father’s embrace,

after the occupation exiled his father to the West Bank

and prevented him from hugging him.

But he is still standing…

still alive,

and that alone is a small victory

in this great hell that he has lived.. and is still living.

Wish him a year with less pain,

a year that may be more merciful and gentle

to his fragile heart.

Happy birthday, Sari, as long as you are with us.

And every year we hold on to you more.

Because your staying alive is life for all of us.

Your sister loves you more than her own soul. ♡