My grandmother’s House
My grandmother’s House
When I was three years old. I spent the summer with my grandmother in Jerusalem. Waiting for my parents to come to take me. I spent my time with my cousins playing in the backyard. Olive trees are everywhere. But there stood a big fig tree rising high above all trees. “My giant” I would call her. Sometimes my cousin would carry me to pick my own figs. When I was up I would say hello to my friendly giant. She would smile and give me a kiss. Yes, the leaves would touch my cheek while I am collecting the fruits.
Every day I would visit my giant, give it water, hug it, and tell it stories of my previous day. The most story I used to tell was about how my mommy, daddy and sisters are coming to take me with them back to our home. I was happy, and more than my grandmother’s backyard the world around me did not exist.
One day, I went to my grandmother but I did not find her in the kitchen where she normally is. I looked around the house and found her at the balcony looking out with fear and listening to the radio. She was shivering. I felt there was something wrong. I went to hug her as I used to do to make her smile, kiss and give me one of these homemade cookies she used to make for me. She did not move; she was lost in thoughts. I was sad, walked away and sat on the carpet to play with my toys.
At night, my grandmother made me sleep in her bed and was hugging me tightly. I could not sleep feeling her hot breath on my cheeks. I was afraid to break the silence of the night. I did not say anything even though I was not sleeping. I remember she was taking me to her bed every night. The hug became tighter night after night.
In the morning, I would go to my giant and cry, praying that my parents will come to take me soon. I was afraid, something is wrong but I was too young to understand.
That night my grandmother did not change my clothes into my night dress nor did she change hers. She put me to sleep in her bed but stayed awake near me looking out at the window. I was finally able to sleep. In the middle of the night, a light came out, loud sound cracked and something hot fell in the room. Before I was able to understand I felt a hand pulling me from bed and lay me under it. I was too sleepy to understand, and too scared to speak. The lightning kept on all night. I could hear the sound of shuttered glass. My grandmother was not hugging me she was all over me leaving me a small gap to breath. I understood later that she was shielding me from bombs that were falling all over the neighbourhood.
When the sun finally raised. I could not hear anything. This must have been the worst nightmare. All I wanted is to go and talk to my giant. Finally, my grandmother allowed me to crawl out from under the bed. She was checking the damage around. Thank god, it could have been worse.
She did not allow me to walk alone. Finally, I was able to open my mouth and asked her to take me to the backyard. She was reluctant but at the end she walked me there. I was afraid to look as I was smelling something strange. I finally lifted my head up, looked at what was yesterday my giant and today totally burnt out. My giant died, trying to protect me and my grandmother’s house.