Dec. 31, 2023, is a day like any other in the midst of the agony of aggression, which has been spiraling downward in a nightmarish fashion.

Our morning routine begins with securing basic necessities. The first task of the day is to make bread, a collective effort. We then proceed to light a fire in the garden to bake the bread, as gas is no longer available. Once this task is completed, we begin to prepare our meager meal, which is now devoid of the essential components of a healthy diet due to the scarcity of vegetables and meat in the market. Canned goods form the foundation of our sustenance, supplemented by whatever fresh vegetables we can find — perhaps a cucumber, a tomato, or a potato. These precious morsels, though exorbitantly priced, are a welcome addition to our otherwise monotonous diet.

Once our hunger is appeased, we turn our attention to the task of charging our mobile phones and batteries. These devices provide our only source of light at night, a precious lifeline in the darkness. Some members of our family venture out to a location with solar panels, where they patiently wait for all of our devices to charge.

This task completed, another one begins, one of the most challenging. Members of my family set out on a journey to secure water. They haul massive buckets from a water vendor, treading back and forth to fill our household’s daily water supply. The task is arduous, requiring strenuous manual labor to transport heavy loads of water.

A birthday breaks the monotony

Amid the monotony of wartime survival, a glimmer of hope shines through on this particular day, because it is my sister Farah’s birthday, the day she turns five.

We usually celebrate her birthday by preparing a cake and some snacks, buying her presents, and gathering together to mark the occasion. But this time, things are different. No bakeries, no cake shops, no supermarkets selling snacks, chocolate, or drinks. No toy stores to buy toys or other gifts for her.

Farah loves her birthday and always waits for it impatiently. Even when she woke up this morning, she told our mother, “Today is my birthday, but the aggression is not over. What will we do?”

My mom told her, “Don’t worry, my darling. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

“No problem, Mom,” Farah answered. “What matters is that we’re together and there’s no shelling.”

My mother’s soothing words calmed Farah’s worries.

My father and brother try to find eggs so Mom could make her a cake at home, but to no avail: no trace of eggs in the market.

I set out with my mother on a quest, scouring the neighborhood for even a single cookie and a gift for her. After an exhaustive search, we stumble upon a lone street vendor with two remaining toys. We buy them up on the spot: a treasure chest filled with toy medical instruments and a new doll to play with.

As we return home, we rack our brains for ideas on how to make up for the birthday cake she had been eagerly anticipating. After some deliberation, we decide to make a simple dessert called muhallabia, a milk pudding, which is a traditional dessert in Palestine. It is the only sweet thing we could make with the available ingredients.

My mother lovingly prepares the dish. We wait until everyone gathers for lunch. Then, she brings out the dessert. We savor it together, sharing in the sweetness of the moment. Farah and the rest of the family exchange the traditional birthday greetings and Farah discovers her gifts, a token of our love.

Farah wants us to capture some pictures of her with the dessert in the garden. She says that the color of her blouse perfectly matched the dessert, and she asks us to sprinkle some fake snow on her because she loves it and it makes her happy.

When we ask Farah what her birthday wish is, her simple yet profound response captures the hearts of all who hear it:

“I wish for the aggression to end and for all the children in Gaza to be happy.”

I think to myself how Farah’s innocent plea resonates deeply with all of the children of Gaza, representing a shared dream for a better future.

A sanctuary of love

As we had gathered to commemorate her special day, the air was filled with a unique blend of happiness and solidarity. Surrounded by loved ones, we created a sanctuary of love and laughter, momentarily escaping the harsh realities outside.

On that day, I felt my face became illuminated with optimism and a quiet rebellion against the challenges that threatened to overshadow our lives. I could strongly feel the flicker of hope that refuses to be extinguished.

Farah’s birthday was a celebration not just of my sister’s life but an act of defiance against the hardships that seek to dim the light of joy. I felt a mix of joy, gratitude, and an unwavering determination to find light in the darkest of times. This celebration was not just a birthday; it was a testament to the ability to find joy amidst chaos and the enduring power of family bonds in the face of adversity.

Farah’s birthday wish, made in the shadow of aggression, echoed a longing for peace and a return to the carefree days of childhood.

The question on everyone’s lips became, “When will the aggression end?”

For Farah — who, like all children of Gaza, has endured so much pain and loss — to be able to come up with such a wish showed me just how resilient the human spirit can be. This is not just about my little sister’s birthday wish, I realized. It is about the strength of the human spirit and the power of hope to overcome even the most difficult circumstances. It reminds all of us that even in the darkest of times, the light of hope can shine through.

The world must come together to answer Farah’s wish and create a future where all children can live in peace and happiness.