The older of the Muslim mothers pulls out her bag and starts
flipping through family photos and reminiscing.
This is my oldest son, Mohamed. He would have been 24 now ..
The other Mom replies, I remember him as a baby.
The first mother says, Hes a martyr now.
Oh, thats so sad, my dear.
Then the first mother flips to another picture. And this is my
second son, Abdul. He would be 21.
Oh I remember him. He had such curly hair when he was born.
The first mother sighs, Hes also a martyr.
Oh gracious me! says the second mother.
And this is my third son. My beautiful Ahmed ! He would be 18
this year.
Yes, says her friend enthusiastically, I remember when he
first started school.
Hes also a martyr, the first mother says. She sobs. Her eyes
now fill with tears.
After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Muslim mother looks
wistfully at the photos,
gently lays her hand on the first woman's shoulder and says:
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