Everything fixed with the wave of a hand (a child's view of the world)
unfinished letter #16
A gentle note that the letter below is part of my unfinished letters series, where I share my most tender, unvarnished thoughts on topics like Islamophobia, motherhood, and the visibility in being a visible minority. As such, today’s post includes a paywall. If you’d like to access the whole letter and want to support my writing, consider upgrading. If you are already have, thank you!
I reread an old blog post from 2015 the other day, back when the only people who read my words online were my sisters and one writing friend. Back then, my posts were a mash up of kids say the darnedest things and complaints about my lack of sleep. Rarely was there a point.
Rereading it now, I’m struck by D’s view of the world: how simple he thought everything could be.
A new arm? A new eye? No problem!
Everything fixed with the wave of a hand.
I suppose I should take his view of life as a compliment. Not that I did anything to make it conflict free. More and more, I am overcome with how much of this is dumb luck. The where were you born lottery.
What would a child in Palestine, in Sudan, in the Congo think about how easy it is to get a new arm, to get a new eye?
Last week I read a post online about anesthesia the IDF is blocking from entering Gaza.
Anesthesia.
So the children whose limbs must be amputated are not afforded even the relief of numbness while a saw cuts through their flesh and bones.
I already knew this. About the anesthesia. But each time I read it, I feel a fresh slap across the face.
Bionic Mama: My 2015 Blog Post
"Are you sure nothing's broken? I think your arm is broken," D informed me.
We were playing doctor in his room. The game had started with a request that I be the patient and tell D what was wrong with me.