Tasting the Sky Read Online Free Page A

bombardment continued and no bombs fell directly on us, it became clear that neighboring areas were the immediate targets of attack.
    We continued on, slowly sinking into a solemn calm. I saw that we were joining other clusters of people, as ghostly and stunned as we were. Among those ahead of us, I thought I saw my mother, her thick, dark braid waggling on her back.
    Our group hurried to catch up to the group in front of us, and my numbed feet flew forward. The lights in the sky came and went, but I kept my eyes on the braid. I fell repeatedly, but quickly got up. My eyes never wavered. I was determined to reach my mother. I pushed myself closer and closer to where I thought I saw her until I was only a few steps behind her braid. When my fingers finally touched her dress, the war seemed to halt.
    Thinking that I was with my mother again, I could see that I had lost the one unlaced shoe I’d had on. I began to feel the feverish fire in my feet. I let myself weep a little, hoping my mother would hear me, then I pulled on her
dress and let it take my weight. The respite lasted for only seconds, however. As new flares flashed, a strange face turned to scold me. “Who are you?” she asked as she shook her dress free from my hand. Now I could see. The woman was not my mother.
    In shocked disbelief, I dropped my hands to my sides, gripped my own dress, and could feel neither terror nor pain. My eyes searched for no one, and it barely mattered whether I walked alone or had people around. I could only put one foot in front of the other.
    When we approached the area of the caves, I learned that there were many caves, in different places. Anxious voices pierced the air: should we hide or continue on? Some settled for hiding. But I found myself walking with those who chose to continue on until we arrived at the road that would lead to Jordan. It was deeply dark here, like everywhere else. So we waited for a long time for the night to be over.
    When dawn finally lit up the world, I saw that I was surrounded by a large crowd. No one spoke to me, and I stared at the children who were clinging to their parents. I envied them having a hand to hold on to while I had none.
    People were gazing into the sky as though a long line of unanswered prayers hung from it. They were cursing as they struggled to swallow their grief. They begged one another for a drink of water and begged God for mercy.
    I wandered aimlessly, staring at strange face after strange face. And then, suddenly, I thought I saw my dad. “Yaba!” I called in a low voice, hoping it wasn’t a mistake
again. But he turned to me. Tears streamed down his face. Now I was certain.
    Next to him stood Mother, holding my sister to her chest. My father and my brothers hurried to meet me, holding out their arms. Muhammad, the one who had first noticed that I was missing, offered me his shoes.
    My heart ached, my feet burned, and something in me still felt confused and lost. But I was no longer alone. Once again, I was with my family. Together, we entered the second day of war.

Shelter
    There were no cars or trucks on the Jordan road for as far as the eye could see. The June sun beat down fiercely on the tar, and on our faces. We stood for a long time before I asked if I could sit. My father insisted that I remain standing so that I could be ready to run. But I could no longer stand. My feet were bleeding and bruised, and thorns had broken under the skin. Each time I moved, it felt like I was stepping on needles.
    Then, suddenly, it seemed as though my feet had disappeared from beneath me. And I fell to the ground, asleep. Frantically, Mother hovered over me while pressing Maha to her chest, and Basel and Muhammad shook me and pinched my cheeks until I woke up again.
    â€œNo one can carry you,” my father explained urgently as he skinned off a piece of cucumber and rubbed it on my
face. He offered me another piece to eat. At Mother’s insistence last night he