What Happened to Childhood?

Yesterday started off as your “typical” “normal” day. I had breakfast with my bestfriend, met my other friends and my boyfriend for basketball practice, and then hung out together for the rest of the day…. Normal.. right?

Well yeah, it seemed that way, until something strange happened, something I’m ought not to forget for as long as I live.

We were talking and laughing and taking pictures, just like normal teens do… until I spotted a couple of kids, observing the playground and just staring at us and at all the others kids that were there.

I looked over to their direction and I knew they were not Lebanese, so I assumed they were Syrian… Syrian Refugees to be exact.

I gained focus again and went on with my little chitchats with my boyfriend and friends, and a couple of minutes later, they went down to the playground and were playing with the toys that were right in front of the bench we were sitting on.

I watched over them, again, just examining every move  they made, they looked happy. They were happy.

They were playing and laughing..

2 boys and 3 girls. I don’t know whether they were siblings, but there were one of the girls that seemed like the oldest between them. She wasn’t playing like they were, instead, she was sitting right across them, looking after them. She gained my respect right after watching her do so .

I  kept on looking at them, and I felt happy, that they were happy. And I thought to myself : “how often do they get to come down here and play like normal children do? Is this the only little time of happiness and childhood they get?”

Their clothes weren’t new, I could tell; well of course they weren’t, they left everything behind when they left home, and came here… to a strange country and a strange city looking for a shelter, home, and food. I don’t think they even ask for new clothes. They just ask for a living, For food to eat everyday. Fresh food. Not leftovers they get or find on the streets.

My thoughts took over me, I went on thinking about them… suddenly, I saw the youngest of the girls fall down. And I knew, she hit her head.

I stood up as fast as I could and went over there to her. Her siblings got there before me and were just watching her… I felt the urge to ask her whether she was in pain or in need of something..

The elder sister took her by the hand, as if I was there to harm them. Oh my…

She was afraid. Of.. me??

But, I knew all I did was ask about the little girl who was crying, but stopped crying right after I talked to her.

The older sister said thank you quickly and took her little sister and her other siblings away…

I got upset.. like, really upset.

How did that happen… these little kids got afraid of someone who is a couple of years older than them, someone who smiled at them, someone who was trying to do something nice.

Now no, I do not blame them… how could I ?

They faced terrible, horrible things at such a young, young age. They only got to see the black dark side of life… I don’t think they know that they are loved. I don’t think they know that they should be happy and carefree, THEY HAVE THE RIGHT TO.

After dealing with this, I knew, well I got more sure that my purpose in this life is to make it a better world for kids like them. Kids who have nothing to do with war, guns, blood, and killing. They are only paying the price of someone else’s fault.

Why is it like this… why?

So I ask you all to pray for them, for kids like them , kids who are not living their childhood the way they should… kids who are facing downs and downs often and never get to see the sun light.

It could’ve been any of us, in their shoes. But we were blessed and lucky enough not to. And not because we’re not in their shoes, that we should ignore them and live as if they don’t exist, because they do. They are my responsibility. Our responsibility. We should do something to make this life a better place for them.



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