Hearing news about the refugee crisis and about the fighting in Fallujah, Iraq has been weighing on my mind so much that I can’t sleep at night. While watching an episode about Cologne, Germany on Anthony Bourdain’s Parts Unknown (CNN) they showed scenes of refugees fleeing their cities with kids. I wanted to cry instantly. I feel so helpless. I want to do something but don’t know what. Imagine how much shit you and I carry just going to the grocery store with the kids and now imagine what it must feel like to take a journey that involves leaving everything you have behind and dodging bullets, bombs, and hatred with a child in tow.
I feel thankful, yes, but I feel more guilty for sleeping in a warm bed, for always having a fridge full of food, for always ending my day with my family safe and sound. I want this simple reality to be omnipresent.
While I figure out how I can make a tiny positive impact in some way, may I stub a toe or hit my funny bone every time a complain tries to come out of my mouth. By all standards, I have the perfect life. I am the lottery that all of these people in the middle east are hoping to win. I am the ultimate happiness that they wish for their children.
I can’t imagine tiny little innocent kids trying to survive this crisis and growing up with so much hate. What will they remember? How will they see the world when (and if) they grow up? If I find a magic lamp I only need one wish – for every child to grow up safe, loved, and educated. It’s too late to do anything about the shitty adults who are destroying our world.