I remember the grownups driving through Star Gate and entering Karachi’s international airport – I don’t even think the airport had a name back then – and walking up the stairs to the open patio to eat cake while the grown-ups sipped tea. Together we watched airplanes roar over our hair, feeling no fear, not wondering if the roar was a bomb or a suicide bombing. And when the plane landed, we raced down the stairs to see who could reach the arrival gate first.

This is just one memory that floats through my mind as I wait at Houston’s Intercontinental Airport. Heading to my first world, a journey soaked with memories filled with changes, I contemplate my long-term relationship with airplanes and airports.