INTERLUDE

The airplane taxied down the runway and lifted off the tarmac with a lurch. For most of the passengers on this flight, the routine jaunt from Riyadh to Amman was an inconvenience to be tolerated with opened newspapers and laptops.

But for Hana El-Amin, it was not routine at all.

As Saudi Arabia vanished beneath a sea of clouds, she wondered if she would ever see her homeland again or if she would become one of thousands of expatriates living in the United States for the rest of her life. Her father's job at the oil company brought him to America several times a year, so she would see him again. But what about her mother and brothers?

Her uncle had worked hard to become an American citizen, and the family was thrilled he and his American wife were sponsoring Hana. But she hated the idea of leaving her family. Everyone knew her as Ibrahim's daughter. When she was too outspoken or bold, the older women would smile fondly and look at each other and say, "What else do we expect from Ibrahim's daughter?"

A rough spot of turbulence shook the airplane, and Hana's fingers tightened around the armrest until her knuckles shone white. Her skin felt clammy beneath the heavy black clothes her mother had warned her not to remove until her connecting flight left Amman. Her father scoffed and told her to rip it all off the moment she left Riyadh and never look back.

"You are going to have more freedom than you could ever imagine, my little one," Ibrahim said. He spoke in English, which he had forced Hana to learn. "Remember this, Hana: freedom without wisdom is only a gilded cage. Keep peace in your heart, wisdom in your head, and your feet on solid ground, and you will have a wonderful life."

Hana cried pitifully when her father had handed her over to the flight attendant who would see her safely to Amman. The kind Jordanian man had spoken to her in English as they passed through security together and on to the departure gate. He was impressed such a small child knew such big English words. They played the alphabet game – saying a word starting with each letter of the English alphabet – while he strapped her into her seat.

Now he was gone handing out drinks to passengers and fetching blankets and pillows. He only stopped by once during the two hour flight to ask how she was doing. She had run out of tears long ago, so she nodded and he left her in peace.

Hana knew her uncle and aunt would be kind to her. They always sent beautiful birthday cards with funny American money tucked inside. She never exchanged it for riyals. She liked looking at the strange green men on the paper and looking for the hidden owl in the corners. But she missed her family already and the thought of living without them forever made her stomach ache.

A warm breeze caressed her face in the skywalk between the plane and airport in Amman. She didn't know the English word for wind tunnel, but her father had taught her the concept for her science fair project last month. She's won first place with the experiment they had worked on together. She wondered if her uncle and aunt were good at science like her father. They were both professors, but she couldn't remember what they taught.

The disembarking passengers jostled her little body as she made her way to the gate where a new flight attendant – an American one – would greet her and help her find her American Airlines plane to Chicago. A strange scent carried down the wind tunnel, like freshly clipped grass, but sharper and more pungent than any grass Hana had ever smelled.

She stepped over the metal joining between retractable skywalk and airport, but when she looked up from hopping over the crack, she was not in the Amman airport. She stood on a high hill overlooking a quaint little village under a sky full of the fluffiest clouds she'd ever seen. The air here felt cool against her skin and everything around her was lush green.

The little girl reverently whispered the first word that sprang to mind, because this place was the opposite of the dry Saudi desert that her parents wanted her to leave. Surely, this was the Garden they intended for her to find in America.

"Jannah."

Translation Note: As I have said before, I don't speak Arabic, and I'm not Muslim. If I have used/translated the word Jannah incorrectly, please let me know that in a review or PM so I can correct my mistake. I want to represent Hana and the culture she grew up in as accurately and respectfully as possible.

Jannah = Paradise, the Islamic concept of Heaven