When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above.
But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live.
After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started
Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country.
Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible.
My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above.
But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live.
After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started
Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country.
Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible.
My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above.
But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live.
After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started
Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country.
Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible.
My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above.
But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live.
After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started
Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country.
Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible.
My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above.
But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live.
After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started
Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country.
Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible.
My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above.
But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live.
After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started
Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country.
Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible.
My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above.
But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live.
After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started
Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country.
Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible.
My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above.
But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live.
After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started
Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country.
Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible.
My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above.
But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live.
After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started
Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country.
Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible.
My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above.
But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live.
After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started
Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country.
Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible.
My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above. But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live. After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country. Life in the United States gave me something I had never experienced before: stability and hope. Here, I discovered that dreams don’t have to die with war; they can be rebuilt. I studied hard, adapted to a new language, and found comfort in science and engineering classes that reminded me of my grandfather’s curious mind. Each time I learn about aerodynamics or aircraft design, I feel connected to him again, as if I am fulfilling a promise we made long ago. Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible. My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above. But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live. After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country. Life in the United States gave me something I had never experienced before: stability and hope. Here, I discovered that dreams don’t have to die with war; they can be rebuilt. I studied hard, adapted to a new language, and found comfort in science and engineering classes that reminded me of my grandfather’s curious mind. Each time I learn about aerodynamics or aircraft design, I feel connected to him again, as if I am fulfilling a promise we made long ago. Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible. My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above. But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live. After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country. Life in the United States gave me something I had never experienced before: stability and hope. Here, I discovered that dreams don’t have to die with war; they can be rebuilt. I studied hard, adapted to a new language, and found comfort in science and engineering classes that reminded me of my grandfather’s curious mind. Each time I learn about aerodynamics or aircraft design, I feel connected to him again, as if I am fulfilling a promise we made long ago. Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible. My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above. But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live. After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country. Life in the United States gave me something I had never experienced before: stability and hope. Here, I discovered that dreams don’t have to die with war; they can be rebuilt. I studied hard, adapted to a new language, and found comfort in science and engineering classes that reminded me of my grandfather’s curious mind. Each time I learn about aerodynamics or aircraft design, I feel connected to him again, as if I am fulfilling a promise we made long ago. Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible. My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.

When I was young, my parents moved to Singapore and left me in Myanmar with my grandparents. Living with them was one of the happiest times of my life, especially the days I spent with my grandfather. He loved fixing things - , cars, tools, even old airplane parts. On weekends, we would visit the local airport hangar to watch mechanics repair airplanes. His eyes always lit up when he talked about his dream of becoming an aerospace engineer and a pilot. He wanted to see the world from above. But living in Myanmar during a civil war made his dream impossible. He often told me, “One day, maybe you’ll see the sky for both of us.” When the war reached our town, my grandfather was one of many innocent civilians who lost their lives. His death changed everything. That was when I decided I would carry his dream forward, to become an aerospace engineer and honor the life he could not live. After his passing, my mother decided it was no longer safe for me to stay in Myanmar. Her first plan was to move me to Singapore, but the country had stopped accepting civilians from Myanmar. Instead, we relocated to Ethiopia. It was safer, but opportunities were limited, and I soon realized that I could not pursue aerospace engineering there. Around that time, my father had moved to the United States. He told us that America was a place where education could change lives, and that if we joined him, I could finally chase the dream my grandfather started Leaving my hometown was the hardest decision of my life. Every street, every corner held memories of my grandfather - the sound of his laughter, the smell of his workshop, the way he would pat my shoulder and say, “ Saat lae lar par (keep learning).” Yet I knew that if I stayed, his dream would fade with the chaos of war. So, I left behind my childhood, my friends, and the home that raised me to start over in a new country. Life in the United States gave me something I had never experienced before: stability and hope. Here, I discovered that dreams don’t have to die with war; they can be rebuilt. I studied hard, adapted to a new language, and found comfort in science and engineering classes that reminded me of my grandfather’s curious mind. Each time I learn about aerodynamics or aircraft design, I feel connected to him again, as if I am fulfilling a promise we made long ago. Still, I think about Myanmar and the countless young people who, like me, grew up surrounded by war instead of opportunity. Some will never get the chance to rebuild. That thought drives me even more, to not only achieve my goal but to one day inspire others who come from conflict zones to believe that their dreams are still possible. My journey from Myanmar to the United States has taught me that dreams can survive even the darkest times. My grandfather’s dream became my purpose, and now it’s my turn to build the future he imagined - to reach for the sky, not just for myself, but for him and for everyone who never got the chance.