Four years ago, I went to visit my family in Pakistan. I still remember when my Dad told me that we would be going. It was just me and my older sister in the car with him as we were driving home from school. My initial reaction was shocked because I hadn’t been back there for eight whole years. I remember the excitement not leaving till the day of our flight had finally come. 

I remember getting to the airport, waiting to board our flight,and finally getting on. There was a map on the little screen in front of me that showed where we were and my eyes were basically glued to that screen for the entire seventeen hour flight. I remember when our flight landed and the eagerness to finally step into Pakistan taking over my mind. I remember stepping out of the airport and searching the crowd of people restless to reconnect with loved ones for my uncle and cousin, who had come to pick us up. 

I remember when we finally locked eyes with them and how we instantly came to each other. I remember the tight embraces, the tears of happiness, and how everyone just had forgotten about all the bad in the world. I remember my Dad and his brother and how they were glowing with happiness, the aura surrounding them filled with memories. 

I remember the stop we made to get ice cream in the four hour drive from the airport to our home. I remember finally getting home and automatically fitting in, it had felt like that was exactly where I was meant to be. I remember how we surprised everyone with our arrival, only my uncle that came to pick us up and his family knew that we were coming to Pakistan. 

I remember how the very next morning we went to visit my grandparents on my Dad’s side. I remember how surprised and joyous my grandma was when she saw us. My cousins even took off from school that day to welcome us.