“Chasing the Echoes of Home: A Journey Through Memory and Migration”
It had been years since he’d tucked me in that way, but I imagined the feel of the silk trim under the tender flesh of my chin and how secure I’d felt as a small girl, knowing my dad was nearby.
***
I’d finally fallen asleep when a bright flash of light lit everything in the room, followed by a roaring thunderclap. The potted cactus on Ginnie’s windowsill crashed to the floor and her picture frames fell off the wall.
Ginnie sat up. “What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” Across the street, a shrill alarm. Voices shouting in Arabic. A woman’s scream.
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