I realize that this blog is confusing… mainly because I never disclosed chronological details about my life. Let’s start here:

I was born in Kettering, England to Pakistani parents. My mother comes from a highly influential family, both in politics and profession (it is a family tradition to be a physician). My father comes from an army home: his father was in the army and so they were constantly shifting up, down and around Pakistan. They both went to medical school in Pakistan, married, and immediately after moved to England to start their lives. I was born shortly after. The only stories I have of my childhood are those told by my parents and ones I have constructed after wistfully pondering upon my childhood photos. I was a doll: the eldest granddaughter, and the pride and joy of the household. Because my parents were busy with their studies, I went back to live in Pakistan with my grandparents for some time. I grew extremely attached to them and till this day call them mom and dad.

I then moved back to living in Oxford, England while my father did his postgraduate studies at University of Oxford, before we moved to Australia. I could tell you many stories: about my elderly neighbors who taught me the important lesson of looking both ways before crossing the street, about my preschool only walking distance from our house where I made my first best friend, about the spiders in our trees that I ran away from, about feeding a kangaroo and seeing a koala fall off a tree, about the coast and our adventures. But what I’m going to tell you is the most memorable aspect I remember: the fireworks. To this day, I will never forget the fireworks I saw on New Year’s at the sydney bay bridge… my four year old eyes were open to a colorful, new world.

But things change and life happens and we had to move back to Pakistan, where we only stayed six months. And then, before I knew it, we were moving again: this time to the vast desert of Saudi Arabia