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The bomb is coming. We have to run and hide.  We go in the closet. Sit there. Pray. I wrap the blanket to protect us. Sit there. Cry. I will do this until I can’t cry anymore. Then we go back to sleep. My boys think this is normal, what every mother do.

They don’t know the difference until Son get invited to a slumber party at one of his friend birthday. He was waiting for this kid mother to hide in the closet. It didn’t happen. He ask his friends, “Your mom don’t do the closet thing?” Soon all the little kid’ mother talked about me. And I couldn’t talk to anybody.




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