November 19, 2006

That flight was the loneliest time in my life. Nobody talked to me, and I didn’t talk to anyone. I kept thinking about Laura, and what she was like. I hoped she would still take me in. I thought about all the stories she had told me. What would school be like? Could I still rap and hip hop dance? Would people ask me about the war? I must have fallen asleep, because all of the sudden we were flying over New York harbor. After a while, the plane finally landed. I moved through the sea of people, looking for Laura. I heard her voice calling “Ishmael, Ishmael Beah.” I moved toward the sound, until I finally found Laura. She gathered me up in a hug, and we embraced for over five minutes. She whispered in my ear, “Sorry about your uncle.” I just pulled her closer.