A Creative Narrative

I remember the morning sun’s embrace; it would radiate through the fields of tall grass as it kissed my shoulders and face. There was a cool, unhurried breeze that convinced even the most stubborn of wheat to dance. As I walked through the field of my husband’s brother, Natanael, I would brush my fingertips across the course seed heads of the wheat plants. I liked the way they tickled. But my favorite was watching Itai’s eyes grow with wonderment as the clouds glided and the fields swayed. He was quiet but I knew he was carefully curious about everything he was observing. I carried him to my father’s house…

Those were what my mornings used to be. Now the sun scorns the earth where the fields once were. Itai cries and I know it is because he is hungry. My mother, Daliyah, and I are helping our neighbors as best we can to cope with our lost and wounded. At different moments I see the despair in her eyes from the loss of her husband, and my father, Salem. Along side the other men, Moses my husband and his brothers, Natanael and Yakov, have begun to rebuild our city. One of the many shelters they are building is the meeting house. It is not too large but comfortably fits about six people. Everyone is helping as best they can; even the children who were not injured are searching for scrap pieces for the men to build with. This shelter is comforting. Its space is dimly lit by the sun through its two entrances. The walls are made of trap and the ceiling of scrap mettle. Many are here, consoling with each other while they grieve for those who are lost. Although this place was made from junk it is precious to me because it was built with care from our neighbors and good craftsmanship. It is not as warm as the sun’s embrace but it is meaningful just the same.

- Adina’s Memory