!WARNING! *Tear Jerker*: And The Earthquake Rumbled

If walls could talk, they wouldn’t be able to speak through their stifled tears. The earthquake started shaking violently at 4:17am, but only moments before, I could feel myself getting dizzy. It felt like a strong breeze rising from beneath my bedrock. I am a wall in the home of a family of 5 west of the city of Gaziantep... the wall of the youngest child in the family. Sweet Laila who hangs endearing hand drawn pictures of her cat on my face.

I saw Laila grow up. Every day at 4am Laila would wail for her mother. This is when she was only a small newborn. She was born in the hospital nearby on February 27, 2016 and I had been anticipating seeing the angel for the first time since everyone in the house couldn't stop talking about her. Her mom, Zainab, wouldn’t let her out of her sight. The first night she came home, she set Laila in her crib and sat up all night making sure that Laila was at ease while Zainab would doze in and out of sleep.

When it was time to pray the dawn prayer, Zainab didn't need to be awakened by the call to prayer that would gently awaken the sleeping worshippers from their slumber. Zainab had sweet Laila. That’s how their love story first started. Laila would wake up every day at 4am crying and hungry and Zainab was ready to nourish with milk and a sunrise viewing to follow.

When Laila was 6, she drew her first “official” picture of our house-cat, Teena. The others were only practice because Laila was already exhibiting signs of real discipline in her craft. It was "quiet time" before the boys came home from playing outside. That's when Laila and Teena would play and then Teena would sit next to Laila's crafting station and she would flick perfectly curated lines and curves until her picture came to life.

That day, I was mesmerized by her talent. I felt really proud to be toting Laila’s first creation.

10 days ago at 4:17am, the earthquake broke the barrier between me and my family. No longer could I bear the crushing weight. I fell. Those sturdy walls that encased, shielded and enveloped the people in their the homes, businesses and mosques fell into oblivion... no longer serving their purpose to stand, to protect. 42,000 people and counting.

And here I was captive and weak against the Earth’s ability to crack and shift without warning. I too, fell, into wreckage, pieces, memories split into slabs of concrete. And there lie Laila. It’s been 10 days. 10 days 18 hours and 13 minutes and I am just reduced to rubble while Laila is hidden beneath my graying dilapidated nothingness. I couldn't do the one thing I was constructed to do. I couldn’t stand and face the violence and protect and shield Laila. She didn’t want anything from me. Simple child-like desires: a place to hang drawings of her teeny cat Teena and I couldn’t even do that.

The drawing fell beneath some rubble from the other walls caving in on me. Zainab was in the kitchen putting together Laila’s favorite 4am snack, milk and apples. Strange combination, I know. But that’s what made this little child so special. There was something about her. Perhaps, it had something to do with her name. Night. Maybe that’s why she was always up before the sun. It was her destiny.

In those last moments, no one heard what Laila said. Except for me. And it was miraculous, beautiful. An enigma to be a witness to a child’s innocent heart. She yelled in a frenzy covered with the inner tranquility of a child being protected by an ethereal presence,

“Mama! Where’s Teena?! She’s going to be scared. I need to hold her to make sure she’s okay!” Not thinking of herself, lost in the transcendence of loving another.

Zainab didn’t hear her. By that point, Zainab had already been consumed by the rubble. Crushed under the windowless panes.

Laila had nothing on her mind except the tenderness of protecting that which she loved in her moment of fear. That’s what we do when we love, we protect from the calamities of the unpredictable. We protect. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. So I’m not standing here anymore. Now, I lie. I lie here dormant, with Laila, mourning who she could have been while her father sits amidst the wreckage, taking ahold of Laila's small lifeless hand ruminating on the fact that Laila was supposed to turn 7 this year.

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Consider donating any amount toward helping those in Turkiye and Syria afflicted by this devasting earthquake. 42,000 people have died and thousands upon thousands of others are injured and displaced.