Cling to memories of home from "summary" of When Stars Are Scattered by Victoria Jamieson,Omar Mohamed
The memories of home were like fragile pieces of glass that I held closely in my mind, afraid to let them slip away. They were all I had left of a place that felt like a dream now, a distant reality that I clung to desperately as if it could vanish at any moment. In the crowded refugee camp, with its endless rows of tents and makeshift shelters, I felt a sense of isolation that was only eased when I closed my eyes and let the memories flood back. I could almost smell the familiar scents of my mother's cooking, hear the laughter of my siblings, feel the warmth of the sun on my face as I played in the fields outside our home. Those memories were my lifeline in a world that felt cold and unfamiliar, a constant reminder of who I was and where I came from. They gave me strength when I felt weak, hope when I felt hopeless, a sense of belonging when I felt lost. I knew that I couldn't stay trapped in the past forever, that I had to find a way to move forward and build a new life for myself. But for now, in this moment, I clung to those memories like a drowning man clutching at a life raft, unwilling to let go even as the waves of reality crashed around me. They were my anchor in a sea of uncertainty, my compass in a world without direction. And so I held on, tight as I could, to the memories of home that had shaped me into the person I was today.
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