36 approaching me. I squinted, then shouted with joy, “Ghanim... Ghanim,” as I waded through the waters of al-Ghubaiba, my clothes clinging to me. We embraced, our reunion filled with unspoken words of relief and happiness. On our way to my grandmother’s house, I turned to Naser al-Marri and said, “Thank you for bringing Ghanim back to us.” My grandmother, overwhelmed with emotion, hugged Ghanim tightly, oblivious to Naser al-Marri’s words. “This boy has exhausted me; he disappears, and I keep searching for him everywhere,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration.
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