It is that time of the year again—Back to School.

Back to school, the harbinger of fall—and fall, the heart of all seasons, is for me a season of gratitude, of letting go, and of new beginnings. Fall is another spring, sometimes even more beautiful and enchanting. So many poems celebrate autumn, or Patjhar as we call it in Urdu. John Keats rightly said:

“Where are the songs of spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too.”

This season evokes countless memories and emotions, carrying me straight back to my childhood in the bustling urban cities of Pakistan. We didn’t have cell phones or the internet then, so two long months of summer break meant little to no contact with friends. Going back to school meant rekindling connections, resuming unfinished conversations, and catching up on summer adventures and family gossip.

As a child, I often spent summers at my grandparents’ home, spoiled to the core and surrounded by cousins. Despite all the fun and constant company, I missed my father dearly and waited for his call every day. For me, back to school was not just about lessons—it was also reunion, with my friends and with my dad.

Most of my schooling was in convents or missionary schools, where strict rules were the norm: wrinkle-free uniforms, neatly tied hair, and notebooks carefully wrapped in brown paper. My brothers dreaded going back after summer’s freedom, fearing the rigidity. But I loved it. The excitement of a new uniform, fresh stationery, and the joy of seeing friends again always outweighed any fear.

Now, as an immigrant parent, back to school feels very different. I don’t anticipate it with the same unfiltered excitement, but rather with a quiet mix of relief and gratitude. It gives me space to focus on work and myself while my daughters are in school. Summer vacations here don’t carry the same charm for me—being an independent parent, they often mean more work: extra cooking, cleaning, and finding endless ways of keeping children entertained and off screens.

And yet, even now, this season feels like life resuming—returning to rhythm and being reminded that life goes on, no matter what. We all experience pauses: overseas trips, visits to grandparents, celebrating milestones, grieving losses, heartbreaks. But eventually, we return to the flow of everyday living.

For me, as a brown immigrant woman, back to school is about preparing for the next chapter: welcoming opportunities, embracing challenges, and finding joy in the anxious anticipation—because that is where growth lies. Just as fall carries both loss and renewal, so too does the immigrant journey—we let go, we hold on, and we begin again.

It is another year of learning.
Another year of opportunities.
Another chance to begin again