Sunny Day Jack’s Wife ❤️🩵💛

  A year has passed since that night, but nothing has really changed Our house is still rubble, our streets still carry the smell of smoke, and the sky still echoes with sounds that make Amira flinch in her sleep. She has just turned one. She’s learning to walk, holding my finger with her tiny hand, laughing at the smallest things — as if she doesn’t see the destruction around her. She doesn’t know the word “loss.” She never met her father, but when she smiles, I see him there. Sometimes I watch her sleeping, and I wonder what kind of world she will grow up in — whether she will ever know what peace feels like, what home smells like. And yet, when she opens her eyes in the morning and says “mama,” everything becomes bearable again. I want to rebuild our home. Not just for the walls — but for her future. For Amira to have a small room, a safe place to dream, a life that belongs to her, not to war. I’m not asking for much. Only for a chance to give her a beginning filled with warmth instead of fear

 A Mother’s Message

Before I write this, I paused for a long time… I didn't know where to begin.

My name is Nasr. This is my first Ramadan without my mom and my sister. The emptiness they left behind isn't just in our home — it's in every moment, every suhoor, every iftar.

I am the oldest among my younger siblings, and a responsibility I never imagined now rests on my shoulders. I try to stay strong in front of them, I try to smile and make them feel like everything is okay… but deep inside? I'm scared.

Eid is coming… and I don't know how to bring them joy. These kids deserve happiness. They deserve Eid gifts. They deserve a smile.

At the same time, my dream of continuing my university education has been delayed — not because I don't want to, but because the circumstances are bigger than me.

I'm not asking for pity. I'm asking for a helping hand.

Any support, no matter how small, will make a huge difference for me and my little siblings this Ramadan and Eid.

🔗 Donation Link:

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Nulla,, toffee chocolate chip cookie,, 👀

  A year has passed since that night, but nothing has really changed Our house is still rubble, our streets still carry the smell of smoke, and the sky still echoes with sounds that make Amira flinch in her sleep. She has just turned one. She’s learning to walk, holding my finger with her tiny hand, laughing at the smallest things — as if she doesn’t see the destruction around her. She doesn’t know the word “loss.” She never met her father, but when she smiles, I see him there. Sometimes I watch her sleeping, and I wonder what kind of world she will grow up in — whether she will ever know what peace feels like, what home smells like. And yet, when she opens her eyes in the morning and says “mama,” everything becomes bearable again. I want to rebuild our home. Not just for the walls — but for her future. For Amira to have a small room, a safe place to dream, a life that belongs to her, not to war. I’m not asking for much. Only for a chance to give her a beginning filled with warmth instead of fear

 A Mother’s Message