Surviving War in Gaza, One Text Message at a Time

“Free, free, free Palestine!” “Cease-fire!” “Every morning, I write to the group, ‘Please, are you all okay?’ This is the fourth day I’ve been trying to reach Mom. You know, I come from a pretty small family. father Mother. Muhammad. Reema. Reham. Mahmoud. Rule. Ruwaa. Shaimaa. Memories of my youth. I can smell the food cooked by my aunts and neighbors. And when summer comes and the beach breeze. But now? Every day since October 7, my body is here, but my heart is connected to each one of my family. Right now they are alive, but they are not OK. Shushu is the youngest girl, and I am the youngest boy. I helped raise him quite a bit. We always play together, and we’re a bit of a spoiled family. So Shushu and my mother were always inseparable. There is not a single safe place in Gaza. Every time I read that they bombed a house in Nuseirat or bombed a house in Maghazi or in Zawayda or Deir al Balah or Rafah, I immediately thought, Is this my brother’s house? Is it my parents’ house? I never thought this chat group was the most important thing in my life. It tells me whether my family is still alive or not. I keep trying and praying. Trying and praying.”