In the rubble, but...

I'm in a large house that is half destroyed. There is debris everywhere on the floors, little furniture, and the walls seem distant and in shadow. I have fragmented conversations with my brother and sister. Then I am standing with my father looking down at the trash, unhappy at the state of affairs here. I'm saying something to my father, but instead of replying to my words he reaches to my forehead and gently wipes at its center. It is a gesture of love and comfort that moves me to tears.