01.

December 1st, 1947.

It was war. I had heard it all from Amr. As hard Father and Mother tried to hide the truth from me, it didn't work. I would always end up knowing. It was something that I somehow liked, finding out secrets that people tried to hide from me. But sometimes it wasn't pleasing. That's how I found out that Bilaal was going to war. I heard him say it to his friends. I was creeping behind village walls, because last night I heard Mother crying.

I didn't like that idea at all. It was dangerous, and with Father gone too, what could happen if Bilaal would leave us too? Mother and I would have to work with the men, or become workers, weaving day and night at shop that will ship out dresses to Bethlehem.

I had always remembered waking up early in the morning and dressing myself up in Ramallah's intricate dress weavings. That was long ago; at least, it felt like long ago. Now we've moved up to Nablus, plain, boring, silent Nablus. Well, at least it's safe.

Mother snapped my out of my daydream with a pointed look,

"Haneen? What are you doing?" she called.

She held onto the wooden stick that held the weave into place. When I didn't answer, she gave me another pointed look and asked me to get Emad and Janine and look after them. Emad and Janine were my brother and sister. Born just 5 years ago, they both were the youngest of our family.

They were another reason why I didn't want Bilaal to go. Without him working the fields, Mother and I would have to work double time, and taking care of Emad and Janine made it even harder.