On the Right to Sleep in Your Own Bed

There is a little girl in Gaza with a pink knapsack around her tiny shoulders walking south in a sea of people. I see her from a world away on CNN and wonder, where is she going to sleep tonight?

How I wish that she could sleep in her own bed tonight.

And just north of her in the city that she fled, there is a young Israeli soldier with a little girl of his own 44 miles away in Tel Aviv with the same pink knapsack. She wonders where her daddy sleeps at night? She stands by his bed and she wishes, how she wishes, that he could sleep in his own bed tonight.

And just a few miles from her there is a family whose daughter was taken hostage during a music festival on October 7th and they have not seen her since. Caught underneath the wheels of hell, she is living a subterranean nightmare in the tunnels of Gaza. Her parents would do anything, literally anything, if she could come home and sleep in her own bed tonight.

And then there is my daughter, growing up in the United States, who has just left for college and decided yesterday to change from a high bunk to a regular bed so that her bed would be more like home. She made the changes, restrung her lights and said that it feels much better now. More like sleeping in her own bed.

It is the birthright of every person to go to sleep in a safe, warm bed. Maybe this is why I’ve been having so much trouble sleeping lately. It’s like a speck of me is with them. Out of bed. How I wish they could sleep in their own beds tonight.

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