When I was a child, was always loud—music, laughter, people coming and going all day. My family would visit houses full of food and cousins playing outside, while inside the adults chatted about everything. I remember once, after eating too many sweets, I slipped outside and found my uncle alone, sitting quietly away from the noise. I joined him, wondering why he did not want to be with everyone else. He smiled, saying, 'Some people just enjoy quiet moments more. We are introverts, maybe.' I liked that word; it made me feel less strange for wanting a break from the party.
在我小时候，开斋节总是很热闹——音乐声、笑声，人们整天来来往往。 我的家人会去那些摆满食物的房子拜访，表亲们在外面玩耍，而屋内的成年人则聊着各种话题。 我记得有一次，吃了太多甜点后，我悄悄溜到外面，发现我叔叔一个人，静静地坐在远离喧嚣的地方。 我加入了他的行列，想知道他为什么不想和大家在一起。 他笑了笑，说：‘有些人就是更喜欢安静的时刻。’ ‘我们可能是内向的人吧。’ 我喜欢这个词；它让我觉得，想要从聚会中抽离出来，并没有那么奇怪。
Now, years later, I still think of that afternoon every Eid. My friends often invite me out for big celebrations, but I prefer smaller, simpler gatherings. My ideal holiday is a walk in the park or even going by the river—just the sound of water and maybe one close friend. I even chose a wedding, with only the and two friends as witnesses. People sometimes ask if I miss the old, busy celebrations or if I ever feel lonely. I always that joy can look different for everyone.
如今，多年过去了，我每年开斋节都会想起那个下午。 我的朋友们经常邀请我出去参加大型庆祝活动，但我更喜欢小型、简单的聚会。 我理想中的假期是在公园散步，或者甚至在河边玩桨板——只有水声，也许还有一个亲密的朋友。 我甚至选择了一个不附加任何条件的登记处婚礼，只有证婚人和两位朋友作为证婚人。 人们有时会问我是否怀念过去那种忙碌的庆祝方式，或者是否会感到孤独。 我总是重申，快乐对每个人来说都可以有不同的样子。
Working as a volunteer with families has taught me more about celebration and belonging. Some families continue their traditions in silence, carrying memories far from home. During Hari Raya Puasa, I sometimes invite one or two refugees to join me for a quiet meal. These are not big parties, but we share food and stories. Each year, I remember my uncle’s words, and I know it is okay to celebrate in my own quiet way.
作为一名难民家庭的志愿者，我学到了更多关于庆祝和归属感的知识。 有些家庭默默地延续着他们的传统，带着远离家乡的记忆。 在开斋节期间，我有时会邀请一两个难民来和我一起吃顿安静的便饭。 这些不是大型聚会，但我们分享食物和故事。 每年，我都会想起我叔叔的话，我知道以自己安静的方式庆祝也是可以的。
