capes to protect them from the rain. Dad was walking ahead, pushing a small cart. Mother also walked separately carrying a small child.
Sister asked ; "Is this the border?"
Mother stretched out an arm; "Is this it. All this mud" her face and voice laden with despair.
The scene was chaotic. People huddled under a sparse hedgerow, tarps gathered about them ,trying to stay dry and failing miserably.
It was the end of their journey. They had nowhere else to go.
In my house, warm and comfortable and safe. I changed the channel. Stephanie had come up to let Mickey the dog out. She looked at me.
"It's too terrible" I said. I can't do anything about it and I can't bear it.
"You could write a blog about it"
"Why?" I asked. "D'you think there's anyone out there who doesn't know about it"
"You might make people think about it. Talk about it. "
"And then what? "
"It would be something "
They are people, just like we are. A mother and father with four children. As they walked, the girl
was telling about their lives before. Dad coming home from work every day with treats and toys.
"Bags and bags of toys " she said exultantly. She talked about their home and family .
All of it gone.
Now they're on the road in the rain with no idea of what's ahead of them.
Until that minute ,the border was the goal and they'd just discovered. It is a dead end.
Hundreds of thousands are displaced. Mothers and fathers and children.
People just like us with the same modest hopes and dreams.