This poem was written by the NCHS Courant’s News Editor, sophomore Aleena Nasruddin.
Me as a young girl who picks lychees off of trees, collects brown leaves from the floor, runs away from humming bees, and eats breakfast under sunrises next
to Dad in a blue button-down shirt who packs his mouth with quaker-oats, scoops papaya from its shell, shifts his mouth into a light smile, and forms creases at the corners of his eyes while he picks up his suitcase that
Mom packed for him, singing off-key to Bollywood pieces and waiting until the pot of chicken starts to sizzle, taking me to the grocery store solely to speak Portuguese to the clerks and not trusting me to push the cart around the
baskets of piled fruit that lay face down and are picked away into eager Hands that rummage around looking for lost keys.
