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Navigating through a sea of people, the bustling airport exudes energy with voices resounding in search of familiar faces amidst the spirited commotion. Amidst the congested taxi queue, I traverse through a maze of vehicles until I finally lay eyes on my uncle's car. 

Embarking on a journey to Amman, the roadside is adorned with an unending display of Palestinian flags. Embraced by the warmth of family, we gather in my grandparents' cozy living room where generations converge around my beloved sido and teta at its heart. 

While some wish to linger, our elders yearn for their homeland. With weathered family documents in hand - from faded deeds to refugee cards and passports - we meticulously prepare for our return journey. Adorned in their finest attire, my grandparents stand resolute. As we advance towards the border, traffic intensifies, prompting us to abandon our vehicle. 

Assisting my grandfather into his wheelchair and supporting my grandmother on foot, we forge ahead united. Once a guarded checkpoint now transformed into a welcoming gateway overseen by our kin, each individual is greeted with "welcome home" as they present their cherished documents. Young volunteers rally refugees by region as convoys transport them back to their roots. Amidst heartfelt songs and diverse tongues echoing within our bus to Ramla, a sense of unity prevails bridging past and present diasporas. 

Welcomed by eager volunteers upon arrival, they guide us towards our ancestral villages. Ascending hills with determination, I push my grandfather's wheelchair over rugged terrain propelled by his anticipation. A once barricaded military zone now stands as a reclaimed sanctuary for us to rebuild amidst remnants of former homes. Embraced by gracious hosts in the city during reconstruction efforts, youth engage in clearing debris while elders offer prayers for prosperity over shared tea. 

Progress unfolds as homes are resurrected one after another with support from neighboring communities in this collective revival journey. When our labor is complete, we are not just reconstructing homes or a village - we are rebuilding our very homeland. I often envision my family's homecoming to Palestine. Just as the tale of my grandparents' displacement has shaped the lives of my parents and myself, I aspire for the narrative of our comeback to define the lives of my descendants. 

It is time for us to embrace each day as if our return is on the horizon within our own lifetimes. Achieving liberation is possible. Returning is possible. Reconstructing the shattered lives taken from our ancestors is possible. Throughout history, yearning for return has been essential in preserving the essence of Palestinian refugees, with the Nakba serving as the traumatic event that etched itself into our collective memory. Sustaining the right of return has kept alive among younger generations memories of towns and villages lost in 1948. However, I suggest going beyond mere contemplation. 

Picturing our return should not solely be a fantasy but a strategic exercise in readiness for what will one day transpire. Let us dare to envision our role in this readiness process: How will we navigate physical return? Who will facilitate it? Who will make the journey back? What awaits upon our return? Envisioning liberation and homecoming provides Palestinians with a blueprint for organizing; imagining return serves as the initial step towards realization. This practice has precedence in history. 

The late Palestinian poet Ghassan Kanafani led us through this profound mental journey with his poignant story "Returning to Haifa." Though not within a liberated Palestine context, a refugee couple returns to their residence, leading them to political realizations; they come back from exile with a deepened respect for the struggle waged by Palestinian resistance in achieving return. 

By engaging in this radical imaginative exercise, Kanafani ensured that his writing acted as a catalyst for his own defiance. Conjuring up images of return is crucial both in honoring our past and resisting in the present moment. A significant criticism directed at the Palestinian Authority and its adherence to Oslo's principles lies in deliberately sidelining refugees and their rights. 

Picturing return stands as an alternative post-Oslo paradigm: an outright rejection of concessions and an embrace of a political and humane framework that centers around our past, present, and future aspirations. Examining ongoing settler-colonialism in Gaza, Akka, Jerusalem, Masafer Yatta, and other Palestinian regions through the lens of homecoming clearly delineates what should be at the core of our people's aspirations: regaining control over all our land while upholding the dignity of every individual among us. Assessing these situations through an Oslo-tinted viewpoint devoid of refugees' concerns or acknowledgment of past injustices only enables Israel's continued occupation. 

Let's dare to imagine returning home and actively work towards realizing this vision.