UPDATE, July 25 8:30 PM their time:

I dial. The phone rings, ENDLESSLY. Hang up. Dial again. BUSY SIGNAL. I stop. Wait ten minutes, they must be on the phone, I think to myself. THAT is the ONLY excuse I accept.

TEN MINUTES LATER.

It rings and Souad answers. I can hear bombing, it is unceasing. EVERY phone call has the sounds of destruction. I don’t understand it. NO one can ever get used it, NO ONE, not EVEN THEM.

She starts, “AKHHHHHHH the SITUATION GETS WORSE, everyday. All the people in GAZA talk to each other via phone to ask about each other…THANK GOD, THANK GOD,” she raises her voice and the hairs on my body.

“We’ve heard that on the BORDERS they have BROUGHT IN BULLDOZERS. In areas where people had to FLEE their HOMES, they are RAZING EVERYTHING. There is nothing left in GAZA, they are closing in on US.”

God protect you, ALL of YOU I say, in an almost whisper. I can’t find a way to comfort her or them anymore. I WONDER if it means anything to them anymore.

She repeats the atrocities on the hospital of Beit Hanoun and the heavy fighting in the Toufaha.

I am SPEECHLESS, HER GRIEF is unending.

“We have HOPE, we KNOW that the world is standing with US. Your PHONE CALL means the WORLD to US. It reassures US that someone OUTSIDE of GAZA cares.” I swallow hard. I can hear a young voice talking to her, it is her little one. He wants to talk to me.

“TELL THEM that we ONLY want the WAR and MASSACRE to END, how is your health? I hope you are well?” All in one breath, he says it all in ONE breath.

I will let the WORLD KNOW, I promise. I’m making a lot of promises, please God let me keep my promises.

What are you doing? I hear children, what are they doing?

He says, “They are sitting around talking.” What are they talking about? I ask him as I hold my breath awaiting his answer.

His voice got deep, posturing himself as if he is an elder to the others around him. “They are talking about the DEATH, DESTRUCTION, THE MASSACRE, THOSE WHO HAVE DIED,” he says that is what they talk about all the time. A picture of my children and nieces flashes in my head, in the pool and on their video games.

He passes the phone to Asmaa I ask to speak to her older brother. He gets on and his voice is in a PANIC. What, what is going on!? I ask my heart racing.

“ALL OF GAZA IS BEING DEMOLISHED. GOOD GOD, PRAY FOR US, I WANT TO BEAT MYSELF AKHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. PRAY FOR US. PRAY FOR US, take care of yourself, take good care of yourself,” he ends breathing heavily. I don’t understand what is going on. He passes the phone to Asmaa.

She says, “He is upset, we just found out there are people who have also had their homes destroyed. Their families ARE SCREAMING AND CRYING.”

She continues to move through the building and the voices and bustle of human beings is CONSTANT. Hold on, she says. I hear children SCREAMING AND CRYING. What is happening I almost YELL at her?!

“Those are the CHILDREN who just found out their HOMES ARE GONE, they are CRYING, HOLDING EACH OTHER, COMFORTING EACH OTHER,” she has moved into another room where the noise is more subdued.

I try to shift the conversation, I am still absorbing ALL the conversations and the NOISE, the BOMBS the CRYING. Asmaa, share a THOUGHT with me, ANY THOUGHT. I hear her mind thinking through the hmmmmm, she pours through the phone.

[A SHORT PAUSE]

“MACARONI,” she replies. “I wish I had some macaroni,” she sighs. Then she asks, “What are you cooking for IFTAR today?” My eyes fill and I dump my useless tears then clear my throat.

I don’t know what I am cooking, I haven’t decided I say to her. Good God, this is so wrong on so many levels. MACARONI. MACARONI. MACARONI. I will not EAT pasta again, not if Asmaa can’t have any. NEVER. My thoughts are running in every direction and I keep hearing MACARONI, and BOMBS and CRYING and TALKING and CHAOS. AND I realize that ALL PALESTINIANS IN GAZA are MOURNING GAZA, are MOURNING their COLLECTIVE LOSSES.

AND I want to be in ‪#‎Gaza‬ just to cook Asmaa some MACARONI.

{Please feel free to share, one of my promises to them is to share our conversations, their thoughts and experiences with the world.}