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MyLifeInWords

Little, vague stories of my life... in words.

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MyLifeInWords

My first memory as a child was when I was walking through an old church from the 1500s, carrying a red balloon in my left hand and my mothers hand on my right.

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I'm part of the minority

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When I first moved to the states, my mother and I knew no English. In about a year, I was already making complete sentences. My mother became jealous, so she would hurt my feelings in unsubconious ways. She still loved me though.. no matter how much we were both struggling to be part of this new world.

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My father adopted me.

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The sight of my first snow was like a dream. Flurries dancing through the wind and through my hair. The feel of my first snow on my face was like feeling and experiencing the wonders of earth for the first time. It was unforgettable, it was lively, it was magical.

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