Anaya settled into the airplane seat next to her mother. Her head was abuzz with all the new people she had met and places she had seen on her visit to Guyana. Even though the plane doors had closed, she could still feel the warmth of the Guyanese sun on her face. She closed her eyes and pictured the colorful Easter kites dancing across a bright blue sky. She could hear shouts from the park as kids chased a soccer ball, their bare feet kicking up dust and dirt.

Anaya thought of her home and friends in Brooklyn, New York. She couldn’t decide what she would tell them about first. No one else in her third‑grade class had ever been to Guyana. There were so many experiences that she wanted to share with them. She pulled out a pen and notebook. Anaya started to write.

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