Honestly, the places in which I feel the most content are airports. I have lived outside of America for as long as I can remember, and one of the constants in my life has been traveling. A year ago, my mom dropped me off at the passport check-in counter in Istanbul, and I set off by myself to go to a wedding in Memphis. This was my first experience of travelling alone, and as I walked through the busy Chicago airport during one of many layovers, I realized how odd I must look. The skinny teenager shuffling comfortably through a busy airport, eyeing the duty free Reese’s Pieces with more than a little reverence.

At the risk of sounding like an angsty teen, I do not really feel like I belong anywhere. Sometimes this can be rough, especially when you feel like an M&M in a bag of Skittles -- growing up in a culture that you love but of which you will never fully be a part. I have had to say more goodbyes than anyone should have to say in a lifetime, and I have not been able to be there for a lot of weddings and funerals. However, I would not have it any other way. Not many people have this many stamps in their passports before their eighteenth birthdays. I can say I have been to over thirty-five countries, am bilingual in Turkish and English, and this life has made me who I am. As I roam the halls and padded lounges of airports with a certain simplicity and ease, I feel at peace. I belong in airports.

I feel content in airports because airports represent transition. No one judges you if you have not quite figured out the system; there are always people willing to answer your questions, however obvious the answers might be to them. Some people wear slippers and pajamas, while some brave women choose to travel in stilettos, but no one stares because each person is just trying to get through their own personal journey, thinking ahead to their destination. People are more charitable in airports, more genuine. There is a quote I saw once that went something like, “Airports have seen more sincere kisses than wedding halls.”

Airports also represent life. Though the goodbyes are painful and ugly and heart-wrenching, there are just as many reunions. The journey might be uncomfortable at times, but there are so many incredible destinations. Even if you miss your flight, there is always one tomorrow, and you get points the more you fly. Though some fly first class, we all experience turbulence together. It is a shared experience like no other.

My love of airports and my love of books both stem from my devout desire to discover. Airports do literally what books do metaphorically: take you somewhere else. Both give you places you have never been and people you have not met, and despite the fact that you may feel out of place at times and there will be things you do not understand, our shared humanity trumps the differences. This is what I want to do as a teacher. Life has so many possibilities, and I want to show people that through reading and writing you can be stretched and get out of your comfort zone to discover more about others and yourself.

Airports are a sort of sentimental sacred ground for me. The routine is set and the times are marked, and you simply have to follow the moving-escalator road to get where you need to go. Because I can face airports with confidence, I know I can get through the transitions and change and the layovers of life with confidence. Sometimes life can be complicated, but as long as I have airports, I have endless possibilities. I can get away, or I can go home, wherever that may be.