My mother Samar’s birthday fell on 31 October.
Last year, she was meant to celebrate her 55th birthday, but by the time it came around we had already been displaced by Israel’s indiscriminate bombardment.
So my siblings and I promised my mother that we would make it up to her once we were back home. But on 15 October this year, a year to the day when we were forced to flee our home in the north, we were no closer to any return.
At the time, I pointed out this unwanted anniversary to my mother, who was writing in a notebook.
“Really?” she queried and then stopped writing while her eyes zoned out a little.
As she seemingly daydreamed, I asked whether she finally allowed herself to process a whole year of forcible displacement.
“My journey with the Quran,” she said in reply…..more
