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I like to sit on my porch and look at the pink trunks of pines and the tall, dark-green pyramids of cypresses. I watch the birds quarreling in their branches, and then my eyes move to the background and follow the hazy blue gradient of the forests and hills dissolving at the horizon. The colors, the shapes—what a gift to see them. I am scared to think that I could have ended up in the darkness.

When I was 10 years old, I found a tube of glue on the ground while playing in the street near my house, in Syria. I thought, What luck! because it was better than the one I had at home. The picture on the tube showed that it could stick together not only paper, but other materials, like wood and plastic. Now I could build a real dream house for my baby doll. I unscrewed the lid and pressed the tube, but nothing came out. When I squeezed harder, the glue suddenly squirted into my eyes like the fast tongue of a snake. It felt as if I had fire in my eyes.

I did not know how much glue was in my eyes or how to get it out. I could still see a little, but everything was blurry. I did not want to tell my parents, so I ran to the nearest pharmacy, blaming myself for my stupidity. When I got to the pharmacy, I was so afraid and confused that the only thing I could say was, “Glue!” I was breathing heavily. “Here you go! 80 pence,” responded the pharmacist, putting a tube of glue on the counter in front of me and mocking my wry face by laughing. He thought I was making a funny face, but when I told him what had happened, his smile turned into a frown, and he told me to go to the hospital immediately. I ran home to my mother as fast as I could, but by the time I reached home, I could not see anything. She put me in a car and drove me to the hospital. The doctor examined my eyes and said he had no idea how to get the glue out. I could only hear my mother scream at the doctor and the nurse urge them to do something. They tried to wash my eyes, but it did not help, so they said I needed surgery.

Everything disappeared and became black. My feelings and consciousness blurred because I thought I was going to be blind all my life. I thought about how I would not be able to see the faces of my sisters or my mom and dad, and how I wouldn’t see our garden or see myself in the mirror. I was losing the world in which I lived and going to another, a dark world. I asked myself if I would still be able to have images in my mind, if I would be able to continue to go to school, if my friends would still want to play with me. Then everything switched off.

I began to hear whispering sounds as I came out of the anesthesia, and I saw a white light. I realized I was given a chance to see. I felt my mother’s hand on my shoulder. The doctor told me and my mother that I actually had had a very serious operation because the eyes are a sensitive organ, but that my vision would be restored. After the surgery, I could not see well for two months, and my eyelids were heavy, but the doctor reassured us that my sight would eventually return completely.

I am still very afraid when I see any child holding glue. I feel as if that experience created a knot in me, a knot to remember that we take for granted many things and begin to appreciate them only when there is a possibility of their being taken from us. As I am looking at the pines, the cypresses, and the hills, I think, What luck!
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Gena Hana, age 19, is from Damascus, Syria. She has lived in New York since October 2019. At the College of Staten Island, her teacher is Polina Belimova, and the program director is Blerina Likollari.