I'm hugged and kissed and there is much welcoming from my aunt. She rounder than I remember, with a moon face to match, her black eyes set deep.
My cousin, Ganwar, shakes my hand. I have learned about shaking hand. At the camp they taught us how: be firm, but do not squeeze too hard! Still, when Ganwar grasps my hand we are like two caves in the clouds pretending we know how to fly.