Chapters (64)
We’re about to enter some big emo hours, so hold on tight. Counting Down with You is the story of my heart, and it was written as a love letter to young brown girls. It wasn’t that long ago that I was a brown teenager, not that I really feel like the spitting image of an adult at twenty-one years old. The older I am, though, the more I realize that there is no “right” way to represent all of us, since we are not a monolith. We all come from different backgrounds and have different experiences. However, when I set out to write this story, I chose to write it from a deeply personal place. The main character of this novel, Karina Ahmed, represents one experience—my experience—but she does not represent all. In this book, my goal was to always give her agency, and give her room to grow. This is undeniably a love story, but Karina is not waiting for a knight in shining armor to rescue her from the challenges of life. At the end of the day, this is her story, and these are her decisions. Just like her, we can’t rely on other people to come save us—we must be lionhearted on our own.
When I was younger, I often felt helpless. We don’t always have the freedom we seek, and it’s hard to rise up against our circumstances when we are young and have limited means to protect ourselves. But this is me telling you right now that it gets better. I know it’s hard to believe that, especially when the future seems so bleak, but it’s true. Someone gave me this advice at sixteen years old, and I hope to now impart it on you: stay as strong as you can. That’s all we can do. We might not be able to fight back or run away, but we can continue to believe in a better future. As you follow Karina on her journey, I hope you find a sense of belonging and understanding. Being seen is the most tender form of love, and I see you. I do.
Thank you for taking the time to read this. If there is only one thing you take away from this book, let it be hope.
All the love,
Tashie
Part 1
PART 1
Spark
1
T-MINUS 28 DAYS
Airports are the true chaotic evil.
There are too many things happening around me. Too many people in a hurry, too many people lazing around, too many announcements on the overhead speakers, and way too many tearful goodbyes.
Anarchy reigns in my little corner. My mom is on the phone, saying goodbye to her ten million friends, and my dad looks like he already regrets agreeing to go on a month-long trip to Bangladesh with her. Even with my earphones in, JFK Airport is too loud.
I wish I were anywhere else.