A foreigner to her homeland, she tingles with anticipation over the fact that she stands seconds away from her first step into the culture that she always believed she would love. Today, she will finally touch the country that her parents call home—her home that she has never known. Having spend the entirety of her eighteen years buried deep in the heart of Eastern Europe, she has grown up having traditions without roots, foods her mother prepares that have no place in the culture around her, and a sense of wonder at why her parents would remove her from the home that they constantly speak of and seem to love. Her birthplace no longer remembers her; it has been sixteen years since she left, and she spent her childhood never knowing why it has be so. Her life has left her suffocating under the weight of dueling worlds under one roof.

Clutching a small, black carry-on by the handles, she steps gently over the plane’s threshold into the jet way, taking care that her long, tan winter coat is properly aligned with her coordinating dress. She pulls her shoulders back, adding height to her naturally tall and slender build, and raises her head with the confidence that proceeds her every step. Her short, butterscotch hair falls at a flawless angle around her collar as she gets closer and closer to stepping out into the chilly embrace of a wintry New York City.

She inhales, prepared and determined to make this place her own, having thought about the arrival and upcoming adjustment for months. Though change had always been her enemy, she was convinced that the timing reigns ideal for what she believes will be the anecdote—a life brimming with answers, which is the only way her parched questions may be quenched.