A Wayfarer’s Reflection Every now and then, one of my children asks a surprisingly difficult question. “Mama, where is home?” I never know how to answer in a single sentence. Is it Indonesia, where I grew up and where so many of my childhood memories still live? Is it Riyadh, where most of my children were born and where weekends often meant gathering with friends at the istiraha? Or is it Sharjah, where we are slowly building a community that once existed only in my du’ā’? The older I become, the less I think home is simply a place. Perhaps it is something much deeper. A Heart Scattered Across Maps…