For five years, I thought about the day that I would go back to my country. In my head, I painted an image that everything would be the way that I had left it — the city, the streets and the people. I expected to see the old familiar faces that I used to see whenever I went to the airport. However, the day of my return, June 3, 2004, was different from what I had been imagining. It was a cold rainy spring day, and as I walked down the steps from the airplane and toward the building, I felt like I was in a foreign place. I felt confused, like I did the day I arrived in America. Finally, I was back in my country, but as I was waiting for my baggage, I did not want to go any farther. I wanted to return to the United States right away. I felt like I did not belong there. Then, looking around, I noticed how old and tired the people looked, including my uncle and aunt who were waiting outside. When I saw my uncle and aunt I finally broke down in tears. 

Later that day, at my uncle’s house, relatives, one after the other, came to visit me. I was extremely happy to see my uncles, aunts and cousins, and I even met, for the first time, two of my cousins who were born after the war. While I was glad to be spending time with my relatives and reminiscing about the old days, there was one cousin, whose father and little brother were killed in the war five years earlier, that I was nervous to see. I felt nervous because I was not sure what I would say to him, and when he finally came, both he and I, without saying anything, broke out in tears. Seeing my relatives again and spending time with them made me realize how much everyone and everything had changed, and that nothing will be the same ever again. 

For the next 20 days, I had the chance to see my old friends and to visit the places where I used to hang out in my hometown of Prishtina. Even though I had spent 23 years of my life in Prishtina, I still felt like an outsider. I felt like I did not belong there.