“Chasing the Echoes of Home: A Journey Through Memory and Migration”

I pulled the phone into the living room as far as its cord would go and held it in my lap while Ginnie and I played marathon rounds of Uno, Crazy Eights, and Gin Rummy with her dog-eared pack of cards, interrupting our game every five minutes to listen for a dial tone.

All I could think about was going home. I wanted the refuge of my stamp collection: my favourite pastime, second only to reading since we’d arrived in the Middle East in September. Regardless of what went on outside our apartment walls or on the streets below, I could methodically soak, dry, press, and catalogue.

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