The season was a golden time filled with the sticky sweet syrup of childhood idealism. These days were a peculiar transition, the times before I was thrust into womanhood and the brutal expectations that came along with it. The days of childhood were gone, and the welcoming world as I knew it began to change. Unfortunately, my naivety did not change along with it. 

Most people would tell you they have a home. Me? I have homes. Yep, that’s right, plural.

My story tends to confuse a lot of people. The truth is, when someone pegs the classic, “Where are you from?” question, the answer is longer than a couple of sentences. At this point, I’ve almost memorized a speil that plays like a loop in my head.