I lie awake afraid they'll lose everything

I am Mariam, from Conakry. I nurse the old wounds of other bodies by day and at night I listen to my own heart banging when the house goes quiet. My little ones come home from school singing in French, their homework full of words I don't use at breakfast. I whisper a surah while scrubbing pots at fajr and sometimes my son asks why I speak differently to his grandmother on the phone. I catch myself staying up too late scrolling, trying to patch together ways to keep our language and our deen. Has anyone else sat with this fear? What did you try that felt honest?