We won the match. Second place in the Gaza strip among UNRWA 5th graders. It was a too fine day to stay indoors or to even get a ride home, so I decided to walk, proudly with my fake silver medal. Something was strange when I approached my neighborhood. I could feel people looking at me; however, they looked away the second I laid eyes on them. Even Abo Mohammed who is the man that that makes falafel in the area refused to take the sheikel from me. Instead, he was unusually kind. As I was walking, eating my Falafel Sandwich, with the salad leaving a trace behind me, my house starting to show up, the roof the windows, I could then see the so many people gathering in front of the house. I started running, and when I reached all of those people, I dropped my sandwich which was then empty. Being a small boy, I tried to find my way through the men’s legs to the door I could only hear my aunt sobbing. My Mum sitting there looking at nothing and tapping her hand on her huge belly softly, she was about to shed a tear. I could see it glowing in her eye hopelessly. She didn’t. In the guests room, my aunt sobbing, most of our neighbors were sitting there. And, there, in the middle, was my Dad wrapped in white, with only his face shown, eyes closed. He wasn’t taking a nap; that I was certain of. I ran to him. He seemed so calm. He had so many little cuts in his face, and I wasn’t sure if that was HIS body inside the white cloth. I looked at him for a minute or so. Then my aunt came and hugged me so tight, while she continued her weeping which made me start crying, for I figured it out. My Dad will never see my fake silver medal.
My mother gave birth three days later. When she saw the child, she said with her sweat going down on her face” he looks like no one but his father”. And only then she burst into tears.