A suitcase, a cheerful weekend bag, snacks for the journey, and loose toys or a book in your hand: in and out of the car, and “mind your step” on the way to the departure halls. You might recognize this scene from your own childhood—those butterflies in your stomach from the adventure ahead. But my mother wasn’t in a vacation mood that day. She was nervous, gloomy, and absent-minded. But she had been like that ever since she’d met our new father. I was eight when she met him, and my sister was thirteen. He was from Egypt, the city of Alexandria.