This year the riskiest thing you can do is to take no risks.
In 1984, a young Sri Lankan man in his early 30s reluctantly fled his home, leaving behind his newly wedded wife and his four-year-old son. Uprooted from all he knew and anxious of all that lied ahead, he arrived at the borders of the UK. This man is my father. The young woman left to care for their child, in a country imploding from civil war, with dreams of joining her husband for a better life - is my mother.
This is the beginning of most refugee stories with only the details of where, when and who changing as history repeats itself. It is this risk that my parents took that would change their generation and mine forever. No risk I have taken until now and no risk I can see myself taking in the foreseeable future has stakes as high as the decision my parents took - and this is probably true of most of you reading this. This raises the question as to whether we are making the most...
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