When Jasmine was 6 years old, her family packed their lives up into suitcases.

She hugged grandma goodbye.

And they flew across the ocean to Canada. 

Everything felt different. 

The air felt colder. 

The roads felt wider .

The words felt strange.

Jasmine would lay in her bed and listen to the sounds of the streets and whisper,

"I miss home."

Soon, it was time for school.

Jasmine wore the backpack her Grandma has picked out for her before they left.

Butterflies started to fill her stomach.

"What of nobody talks to me?" She asks  herself.

Inside the classroom, children laughed and talked. 

Jasmine understood few words, but not all

She wanted to talk to her peers, but she stayed quite.

At lunchtime, Jasmine opened her lunchbox, that her mom has packed.

Inside was homemade kabob, and saffron rice. 

Children stared in disgust, some wrinkled their noses.

Jasmine quickly closed the lid.

She wished her lunch looked like everyone else's.

That afternoon, Jasmine came home crying.

"I don't want to be different," she says.

Mama wrapped her arms around her.

Than she pulled out a small suitcase, filled with photo albums.

"This,"mama said softly, "is home."