I wrote this when i was still in room A-8 of townhouse, buried half way under ground, with the fluorescent yellow lightning, a slight chill, sound of laughter, floating dreams and 129 days of memories.........

The high pitched shrill cut through my brain. It has to be a malfunction. 9:30 a.m. in bright red glared at my pupils as they adjusted to the burst of light. A feeling of despair blanketed me all over. It was Monday morning. Yet another week had passed. 

It all began last winter. The process was a tedious one, but that slight bit of hope was worth the effort. Indeed. A girl from the middle class of a developing country was embarking on a journey across the oceans, alone. I was granted my greatest wish. It was one of those prayers that leave your inner being and land directly unto God's lap. I was going abroad......on my own.

Excitement overwhelmed me, but so did fear when I first stepped on the SSU campus. A colored, Asian looking face was enough to have you stand out in this small Appalachian town, but there was that one more thing in me that caused more than a few faces to turn--my headscarf.

I was so different. I could feel the stares. In the classroom, library, cafeteria- everywhere. As soon I stepped out of my dorm, a queasy sensation would drape me. I felt nervous, anxious, completely out of place. Even my vocabulary shared the uneasiness and just wouldn't come out of my mouth into the surrounding where it might be judged for the accent it held. I felt tongue tied. Just couldn't get myself to start a conversation with anyone. 

As if it was any less difficult to counsel myself to think positive and take the first step, my American roommate decided to change her dorm after only three weeks of my arrival. Her departure came only after the involvement of the Resident Adviser, without utterance of a single word of discontent to me in person. The complaint and the segregating attitude made the reason of moving obvious-my religious belief. I cried myself to sleep that night. I had made a wrong decision of coming to U.S.

My country-Pakistan- has a rich heritage of folklores, parables and dictums and as one of them goes, "every dark night holds the promise of a brighter dawn," and so it was for me.

It was not long when I started receiving friend requests on Facebook from a bunch of my classmates. Though it sounds childish, these invitations carried in them a profound message- the message of 'acceptance.' Little chats with them made me realize that all those stares were merely an innocent reflex to the stark contrast that I represented to their lifestyle. Not only my face, attire, accent or faith but the entire frame of reference belonged to a land which not many knew exists. Even the worst experience brought forth results that I will ever cherish. Dreading the aspect of adjusting with a new roommate I was informed of another international student moving in. This was it. Being from a Central Asian country, she truly acted as my bridge between East and West. Though she appeared European, she was more than just aware of the eastern culture-she understood it. Guiding my way through, she helped me to mesh in with the crowd. 

Today with only three weeks left until my departure back to my country, I wish to save every moment in my memory-the moment when big smiles come my way on the sidewalk from my classmates, when they remember my weekend plans and ask me about it in the following class, when they offered me to join them as they threw ninja stars at each other, when I hear my friends call me in the cafeteria to join them, when they compliment me on my traditional attire, when they ask me to teach them words in my language-I covet to gather as much as possible. 

I read a quote once that said, "The fact that you are willing to say, 'I do not understand, and it is fine,' is the greatest understanding you could exhibit." I met people who brought these words to life. They did not understand the way I dressed, but they appreciated it. They did not understand why I had to eat only Halal meat, but they cooked it. They did not understand my way of prayer, but they lowered their voices while I prayed. I feel like a part of them now. This dream will soon end. I will wake up to the reality that I am only a guest here. I have to return back home. But the memories that are engraved on my soul will be mine, forever to cherish.