The War Took: Hope
There were happy days. I know because of the stories. The generation before, they lived through these good days. Fear was foreign, patriotism bloomed, and foreigners were coming for vacations.
My mom smiles; tilting her head back, daydreaming of the days when peace was everlasting. Most unable to see or imagine that bleak future that lurked just around the corner.
Growing up, stories of the happy days were like to fairy tales. Her story telling is superb, just like a book. They were descriptive and filled with animated speech. She was happy during this brief journey to the past. Genuinely happy. A part of me thinks that maybe she believes it will get better. And she will return to her home, unchanged by time or war. When safety was neither bought nor negotiated.
Then as the moment passes, there is sadness in her eyes. There is a look that seems unable to see a future different from the one that took away the peace. I think to myself, maybe the hope is gone.
But its not. That's all there is left. HOPE.
Its the tool. The weapon. The decree. The only way to bring about a brighter future.
Its easy to overlook the potential to make a difference. But those growing up in this time of darkness need a light to guide them. That's hope. It can make it easy to for them to see that there is, in fact, light at the end of the tunnel.
--For all those working toward a better future for Somalia