By Mariam Mogaddedi
My sweet niece Layla,
I have a memory. I want to share with you. A memory I have when I was young and you were just a little baby. On the weekends, your mother and I would spread our bed in your grandmother’s backyard in the countryside. We would wake up in the mornings, the fresh air and the beautiful sun bringing happiness and life. All around us was a field with wild flowers, and the sound of the river which flowed in the garden. We took you there when you were a baby. I wish you could remember. The simple friendly people smiling at each other and knowing each other was so enjoyable. We would take a walk around the city. I wish you remembered as I did. There was a market that had everything you needed, from fresh produce to bridal dresses. Life at that time was like a dream. I wish you weren’t so young then, so you would know everything about your country and your culture. The war broke out, people fled from their homes and they looked for a place to hide. I was worried about you and I held your hand. Finally, your family fled to Pakistan, and then they went to Germany. All I could do was pray for you. Now, I know you are in Europe. God kept you safe and brought happiness to your life.