Everything is foggy and dark.
I open my eyes and see my grandma looking ahead. 

What is she looking at, I wonder. 

I turn my head and close my eyes once more.

Waking up to a startle, I see people running in the street now.
It's not as peaceful as the first time I woke. Looking up to my grandma (carrying me), I see tears in her eyes.

What happened?, I want to ask, but my mouth stays shut.

This is all I remember of the day I became a refugee.
The rest of the days were lonely, scary, and unforgettable.
My grandma stuck to me the whole ride to freedom.