I sat huddled under the large wooden table in our kitchen, clutching my baby brother. Both of us quietly sobbing. This was the worst bombardment in weeks. It felt so very close. The house rattled as the ceiling crashed onto the table and the kitchen filled with dust.
Then everything went dark, the noise stopped and daddy was there leading the pair of us through the rubble out onto the street. He pointed at a bright light shining on the far side of town.
“That’s where you need to head to sweetheart,” he whispered in my ear. “Hold on tight to your brother and just keep walking, don’t look back. Mummy will be waiting for you when you get there. Love you both.”
He gently pushed us forward and we started walking towards the light, not once looking back.