When I was a little girl, I heard a lot of stories about far-away lands from my mother. She told me stories that she got from my father's letters when he was away. Our family was apart for four years. My father went to school to Montpelier, France while my Mom raised my brother and me in Yogyakarta. Every other year Dad visited us, brought a lot of books and pictures home. Pictures of Versailles, Lourdes, Marseilles, Spain, and a lot more. He told us many stories, brought me from our little home to those countries, although only in imagination. Since that day, I convinced myself that someday, when I grow up, I will see those places with my own eyes :) About twenty some years later, my turn came. I stand here, a few thousand miles away from home. About once a week I call home, talked to my parents about this place. About the harsh winter in Pittsburgh, about my new town near Philadelphia, about my new job. I might not be here if my father never brought me those pictures, told me st...
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