Hope, and a second chance
I'm one of the survivors from one of the most brutal and shocking wars to ever happen. I was forced to move from my home town to America where I was given a second chance. Through it all, though, I never gave up. I always had hope. I always remembered who I was and what I believed. No matter how desperate or grim the situation became, I never lost hope that the future would be brighter. I can remember my days back home as if it were yesterday.
I wake up to the shaking ground and I hear a distant but powerful "Boom!" followed by the ground trembling. I get up still aching from the restless night. I have started to mark the days since my world was torn apart, and have already penciled more nights than I can easily count on my bedside wall. I'm wondering what is happening outside, but my mother tells me to never, ever look outside. Apparently, its too shocking and might be too much for me to bear right now. My mother and I live together in a small brick house in Assyria. The government doesn't allow us to leave our homes unless we hear the siren ring. Sadly, this never has happened. We are given rules about everything. We are told to go to bed at 8:00 P.M. on the dot, but I never listen. I guess you could say we live in a dystopian society. We don’t get out at all, and there is, what I believe to be, cannon fire that wakes me every morning. The one thing I look forward to is my twelfth birthday. When I finally turn twelve, I will go to "The Gathering". That is all my mother has told me. I'm homeschooled like every other kid, if there are any other kids out there. I usually dream of what the outside world looks like, but I probably will never get to experience it.
Experiencing the outside world is something I dream about all the time. Although, it isn't the world I live in now that I dream of because that would be more of a nightmare. I dream about the world I have read about in books. The only books we have are the books passed down from my Grandfather. My Mother's father was a reader and a thinker. He made sure that I got the books that would take my mind off of what he thought was coming. Huckleberry Finn, Tom Sawyer, and other fictional characters take me away from this place to a happier existence. The only book my Mother and I read together is the Bible. She says it is the only place to get true hope for a better future. She used it to teach me to read. We memorize verses about conquering fear, believing that heaven waits for us and verses of comfort about God being in control no matter what. Sometimes I wonder if heaven is real, but I never lose sight of the truth completely. The truth is what holds me together through the constant nights of no sleep. I wonder if it will ever end. I know eventually I will end up in heaven but I hope to have some life here on earth outside the walls of my home.
Even though my twelfth birthday is a distant two years away, I can't quit thinking about it. Thoughts of "The Gathering" fill my head. I don't know much about it. When my Mom mentions it, she sounds enthusiastic. Her voice gets higher pitched and a smile goes across her face. It's the same smile that I see when she talks about my Father. He died before I was born. At least that's what my Mother believes. She doesn't believe he would leave us. I don't want to ask her too much about it. The sadness would be overwhelming to her.
The world was a different place when they were together. She doesn't speak of him often, but when she does she lights up. I like to listen to her tell me about them having picnics together on the meadow. The stories of his presents are favorites, too. All but one of his gifts to her have been lost. We treasure the last remaining gift: a hand-carved bird. Holding it in my hands, I can picture it flying away. I can imagine it's wings spreading as it flutters off. I can almost hear it chirping. This reminds me of my Dad who is free. He is waiting for me. Someday, I will meet him and hear him tell me more about his life. I do know he attended The Gathering when he was young. I know very little else because Mom won't talk about it until I'm of age. As the days turn into weeks, months, and years, I wait.
I did wait. The Gathering, finally, was what gave my Mother and I a second chance. We had to give up all we owned. We left everything behind. That was the only way they would let us go. They only allowed a few families to board the plane bound for America. How they chose, we never really did figure out; but we are thankful we were chosen. I do know that I believed even more completely that there was, and is, a God watching over us. The flight had been shocking. I remember the way the plane shook and bobbed up and down. Although the noises of the engines and the sight of the clouds being sliced by the wings will never be forgotten, it is what I remember next that I will always cherish. Once we landed, we walked off the plane and I watched my Mother run to a man waiting with outstretched arms. I quickly followed in her steps and heard her say, "I thought I would never see you again". He then turned to me, rustled around in his pocket and handed me a hand-carved bird I had seen before.