Kids in tents




I’m staying in an apartment in Amman, Jordan. Outside my window are tents. There are families living in them, little kids running around the dirt and trash. Yesterday, one kid was naked, squatting down, picking at the rock with a stick. Meanwhile, I’m here, eating overpriced food.

We drive four hours from Wadi Rum to this apartment. We carried bags full of sugary drinks and snacks. All while those kids ran around in their tents, trying to have fun with what they have. While, we are trying to have fun with all we have, unsuccessful.

These are refugees displaced from their homes. Meanwhile, I’m spending thousands of dollars on plane tickets, emitting unnecessary carbon, trying to find home.

I don’t want to go on this campaign about comparative suffering. They have it worse. So many people have it worse than me. Though I should be allowed to feel my pain. yeah yeah yeah.

The lesson from watching those kids in their tents is this – be grateful. That’s it. Be more grateful.


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