MY GRANDMOTHER COMES into the room I once used to share with my fifty-year-old unmarried aunt, but has now become home to luggage waiting to be packed and clothes scattered about. My grandmother holds in her hands yet another gift for me to pack in my bags and take home to my family. “Here, take this jar of Labne. Your brother loves Labne,” she says to me as she puts the giant jar full of Labne Imkaabeli and olive oil in my face. “But Sitti, we have Labne in America,” I reply, while I sit on the floor and start to rearrange my clothes to find room for this jar. “Wait! I have some Khubayzee in the freezer. Let me get that and it is tiny, so you have to take it,” her voice thins as her round plump body wobbles out of the room with more excitement than when I first arrived. She suddenly reappears and hands me the Khubayzee to pack.