Yamen just wanted to play with his friends.

The eleven-year-old boy always had to walk carefully through the rubble-strewn streets of Gaza, because his cracked glasses were prone to slipping down his nose. His poor vision made it difficult to see and impossible to keep up as the other children kicked a deflated ball around.

Sometimes, his only choice was to sit alone on the sidelines as the blurry shapes of his friends ran by.

It was during one of these moments that my sisters and I noticed him for the first time. My sisters saw what was happening and asked if there was anything I could do to help the boy whose vision was preventing him from having fun with his friends.

The next day, I came back with a small box. “Yamen,” I called, and he turned, squinting to see who I was. I handed him a new pair of glasses,  and he put them on, smiling ear-to-ear as the world came into focus.

He thanked me, then ran off to play with the other kids. For the first time in a long time, Yamen was just another child having fun with his friends.

But sadly, happiness rarely lasts very long in Gaza.

When the attack came, it was sudden and merciless. I heard the news two days ago: Yamen had been wounded in the strike and didn’t survive.

He was buried wearing the glasses I gave him. 

It comforted me, in a bittersweet way, to think that he could see clearly now—perhaps in a world where there is no fear, no war, only peace and safety. I like to believe he’s running and playing somewhere far better than here, no longer held back by broken glasses or imminent danger.

But I feel the sadness deep in my chest. Yamen was just a boy, like so many others who deserve to live, to laugh, and to play without fear. Our children deserve peace. They deserve a chance at life.

And yet, here we are.

– Rajaa Musleh, MedGlobal’s Country Director in Gaza