[wzslider]Like a lion that increasingly mounts his temper as he looms over you from a short distance, nothing gets my heart beating faster. Like witnessing the beauty of a staggering wonder of the world, nothing stirs my emotions with so much power.
The beautiful pictures of my hometown—those which meticulously show the vast spectrum of orange-to-red coloring of rooftops that provide shelter for the Bosnian inhabitants—mirror the rooftop beauty that is evidenced all over the Balkan region of Europe.
When a young 20-year-old Bosnian like myself witnesses a picture of orange rooftops, instantaneous prompts of reminiscence immediately occur. For the displaced citizens, especially for US residents where orange rooftops are not as popular, memories of loved ones lie within the neighborhoods that are showered with the aforementioned spectrum. For some, the ups and downs of their childhoods were experienced here. Amazingly, there is a direct correlation between number of rooftops and level of emotion; the more rooftops there are, the higher the level of emotion is.
I grew up being told stories of war, examples of hardships, and the terror of personal struggles. I’ve also grown up 7,000 miles away from my grandparents and numerous other family members. When those rooftops appear, I think about my grandparents and how much better my shelter is compared to theirs. I think about the bullet holes that are present in buildings an elderly man sees everyday on his daily bicycle commute to get fresh bread, a Bosnian’s necessity for every meal. I think about how much my struggles are so much less than certain people who have been granted significant disadvantages. I think about the opportunities I have, compared to others.
Should I blame others for generously sharing pictures of rooftops that are in the orange to red spectrum? Hell no, I shouldn’t. The emotions remind me of the struggles and series of unfortunate events that have happened to not only my people, but to everyone. When the pictures pop on my Facebook wall or Twitter feed, it doesn’t negatively exacerbate my motivation. It gets me emotional. It forces reminiscence upon me. And it forces me to get on up, think about my grandparents back home who happen to not be as fortunate as I am, and not take advantage of the good things in my life. I live my life for the ones that are not as fortunate as I am, but have sacrificed so much, like my grandparents. Like my aunts and uncles. Like my neighbors.
Every time I see a shade of orange on a rooftop, one step gets taken back for reminiscence and two steps are taken forward for gratefulness. There are people who struggle all over the world, not just in the Balkan region. It is my hope that you analyze your life, appreciate it, and count your blessings every night.
By seadnooneever
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(Source: SeadNoOneEver)
