“I just want my mother.”

The words in the headline appeared above a photo of a young girl sitting amidst the earthquake rubble in Syria. I stared at it for the longest time, but I couldn’t bear to click on the link. Imagine that. I didn’t feel strong enough to read the article.

As a mother, the headline gripped my heart. As a daughter who still grieves her mother more than a decade after her passing, the words felt all too familiar. So I scrolled past the story. But then throughout the day, the headline, the image, and the quote kept tugging at me. It’s almost like they were pleading with me to be read.