Dear Diary,
The night was hot , I’m sweating, my shirt was soaked, I have a headache. “This humidity is killing me”, I say in frustration. The moonlight shines on me through the window. I hear shuffling footsteps hurrying towards me, I quickly shut my eyes to pretend I’m sleeping. My door opens, the shuffling becomes louder, the floorboards in my rooms creak, I hear them bend down, they’re breathing heavily. “Abbas, Abbas!”, it was my mother, “Abbas, get up! I know you’re not sleeping” she says in frustration. I pretend to wake up, slowly opening my eyes, turning to my mother kneeling at my bedside. “We’re leaving” she whispers, “grab what you need, then meet me and your father at the front door.” I thought to myself, why are we leaving in the middle of the night, now I may sound disappointed, I’m not though! Although I may be a bit scared, I like to think of it as another adventure!
“I don’t know what’s happening” I thought to myself, the only good outcome of us leaving is that we’re leaving this unpleasantly hot place. I went through my cabinet looking for clothes and food to stuff in my bag. Once I had everything I needed, I bolted for the front door, “took you long enough, now c’mon!” my dad says before taking me and my mothers hand sprinting out the door.
I look back at my home, even though I was glad we left, leaving also makes me want to go back, the green door I always hated, the pathways with trees surrounding it, where I used to always play hide and seek with my friends and family. At that very moment, I wanted to rewind time, go to the past and come back, like back to the future or whatever that movie was called that the Taliban kids always bragged about watching with their friends and family. While I was busy daydreaming about the past, we were already there, people, murmuring, whispering to each other. In front of us stood a long rectangular vehicle, the bus that will take us to freedom?