On March thirteenth 2009, my mother told me that we’re moving to Romania. I didn’t know what to feel or how to react at the time: instead I trusted the plans laid out for me. I packed as much as I could fit into a large suitcase and a small carry on, and prepared for my new life overseas.. The day had finally come, my mother and I were preparing to leave to the Portland International Airport. The car ride there felt like days, it was long, dreadful and, tiring. As my father dropped us off he gave us one last hug and wished us good luck. My mother was holding my hand as we reached customs, the TSA asking each person if we were bringing any seeds, liquids or lethal weapons on to the plane and everyone responding with “no”. As I stepped onto the