I have been wanting to say something. About what’s happening right now, in Israel and Palestine. But I am out of words. I can’t truly process this reality. Last week, when the news were affecting my mental state, I removed myself from it all. I started being more grateful for my food, roof, safety. I was grateful for not being in a war zone. Then, yesterday, I woke up to the news in Chicago. A six-year-old boy, who was Palestinian-American, stabbed to death. Twenty-six times. My heart has been broken. I do feel like crying, a lot, not knowing how to process this. I haven’t even talked with my kids about it. What would I say? A little boy’s life was taken away, brutally, because of his religion and origin. Because his parents were immigrants of Palestine. How can I tell my kids this happened in this country, where they are supposed to feel and be safe? I have no words. And given the circumstances, I shouldn’t have any. I wish I had some inspiration, to offer, because ...
