It all started when I was lying in my bed, the world around me quiet and peaceful. Then without warning, everything changed unexpectedly.
Outside, horrible screams and thunderous thuds filled my ears. As groups of people and families wailed, I could hear the buildings collapsing. As I turned my head to witness the disaster outside, my mother yanked me away urgently, tears streaming down her face, pleading with me to gather important goods so we could flee as soon as possible. I grabbed food and water without a second thought, rapidly shoving them into a knapsack, and ran out the door.
It was just me and my mother, but I felt sorry for the large families with little children who were perplexed and fearful for their life. The loud sounds of sirens pierced my ears as my mother, and I hurried through the crowds of people wanting to flee. People around me had told me that we were being bombarded, that our home and country were being destroyed. I was enraged–how could anybody do something so nasty and inhumane? My relatives and family members could have died or been injured, and there was nothing I could do to help.
As worry and fear filled my chest and made it impossible for me to breathe, I continued moving–I stayed strong so my mother could stay strong. I glance behind me and see so many people’s homes in ruins, people attempting to find their families and find shelter.
We’d been travelling for hours, and my body hurt as the enormous the backpack became increasingly heavy. I wished I could sink into the earth. I couldn’t breathe since the sky was filled with heavy grey clouds caused by the smoke and fire.
After hours of journey, my mother and I found transportation to take us to safety; a refugee camp with food and water given by others.
I’m currently sitting in my tent, still processing what I experienced on my trek. I’ve lost my home and my life there. I’m not sure where I’ll go next, but I’m thankful I didn’t lose the most valuable thing I have: my life and my family.