When I was a little girl,
I would never sleep on airplanes.
When I was a little girl,
home was mapped like a star chart
of manmade constellations,
and I’d try and decipher it
from hundreds of miles above.
When I was a little girl,
summer was dirty fruit markets and the
pink and purple lights of a smoky city,
with people who loved me so much
It hurt when they held my hand.
When I was a little girl,
I never thought I’d kiss my city
goodbye.
I am a little bigger now,
and my summers have grown a lot smaller.
I have not been on a plane in years.
I do not think the next one will take me home.
By STACEY YU
Staff Writer
