Page 46 of Eternally London

I grab the one suitcase I have left, the smallest one with just the essentials, and head out. Many of the children are already up and playing in the open yard in the center of the school buildings. So many of the girls are wearing an article of my clothing, and I can’t help but smile. Yesterday, I went through my stuff and gave them all something. Some of it isn’t practical—like the girls who got my heels. But they love them. These kids have so little.

Now, I wish I had brought more than the three suitcases I did.

I really wish I had more sun hats, so they could shield their faces from the sun. Truthfully, I could spend days listing the things I wish I could give these kids.

One thing’s for certain. I understand Georgia so much more than I did. I get why she longs to go to these places to help people. There is a feeling of true happiness that comes with helping someone who has nothing. It is so grand, there aren’t words for it. Watching a little albino girl twirl around in circles in one of my skirts with a big smile on her face makes my heart swell and break all at once.

I love these people and this country. In an area with so much terror, the amount of joy is remarkable. The girl twirling in my skirt awes me with her strength. She smiles, resonating happiness from every pore, even when, for all intents and purposes, she has so little to smile about. Witnessing that innocence is a gift, one that I’ll always treasure. I can’t imagine how great I might feel if I could really change her life in the same way that Georgia has done for so many.

“Ready, love?”

“Yeah,” I answer Oliver. The truth is, I want to just stay here and play with the kids.

“She’s a cute one, eh?” Oliver says in reference to the little girl wearing my skirt.

“Yeah, she is,” I answer sadly. “I wonder what will happen to her.”

“She’ll be just fine.”

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t.” He shrugs. “But it’s what I tell myself. You have to separate yourself from it at some point, or it will weigh you down. I’ve traveled all over the world, taking pictures. I’ve seen the absolute worst of humanity. I couldn’t function on a day-to-day basis if I internalized it all. It’d be too much.”

“I don’t think I can do that.” I shake my head.

“You’ll have to learn, love. You can’t change the world. You can only do your part. You’re telling their stories. I’m showing their stories. Imagine how many people will learn about these children’s struggles because of you? That’s incredible, and it’s enough. You have to find some peace in that.”

I take one more fleeting look over my shoulder at the little girl dancing in my skirt. A carefree smile graces her beautiful face. I commit that image to memory. When I think back to this place, I want to remember all the children the way they were when we played yesterday—happy. I want to remember their smiles and the hope in their eyes. When I think of them in the future, I’ll imagine them as joyful and prosperous, living the lives they deserve. Oliver’s right; I can’t think about the alternative because those images are too gruesome to bear.

Abdu pulls away from the school.

“So, where are we heading today, Abdu?” I ask from the backseat as I take a bite of my protein bar. I’ve been living off of these things, but it’s better than the mystery mush that was served at the school. I couldn’t stomach the sight of it, and I’m sure the taste wouldn’t have been much better.

“Well, Miss London, we have a surprise for you today,” Abdu says with a grin.

“Really? I love surprises.” I lean up and rest my elbows on the front seat. “What is it?”

“A surprise,” Oliver says with a chuckle.

“Mr. Oliver thought you could use a break, and I agreed. He planned a fun day for you.”

“Aw, Ollie.” I nudge his arm with my elbow. “You’re so sweet. Thank you.”

“I have my moments.” He smirks.

“So, today has nothing to do with the magazine?” I ask.

“Nup,” Oliver answers, his Australian accent heavy this morning.

“Awesome. How long until we get there?”

“A few hours, miss.”

I sit back in my seat. I need a break. I’m so thankful that today doesn’t involve listening to any more horrific stories. I was on the verge of another breakdown. I don’t care what we do today. I’m just so happy that it’s going to be different from our norm. I’m so thankful to Oliver. He really has become a great friend.

I think back to my first true nervous breakdown a week ago. That day, we spoke to a teenage boy who was missing an arm and a leg. His limbs had been sawed off by his own father. I couldn’t even imagine.

After I was finished interviewing him, I excused myself to go outside. Everything seemed to fall on me at once. My soul was heavy. Their pain became my own, their scars burning beneath my skin, and I drowned in their despair.

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