This is my Mom and my Dad. If I was to tell you this out of context, without any retrospect of the previous four nights staying with a home family, the idea would be that I was an orphan taken in or adopted.

I am both. 

Before I came into their home, I was an orphan. Not literally but in my mentality with my own family. I’ve always felt I was the black sheep, different, alone, alien. Coming into Madurai, I am adopted. Adopted into a culture, into a family I’ve never known, a family I will never forget. I am an orphan in the way I’ve felt abandoned, even if it is only in my mind. Yet these four days have shown me a level of support I could’ve never experienced at my own home. They will always be my Ama and my Apa. When people ask me where I come from I now have four faces to show them. Two my own by blood and two that embody what I invision as an ideal of parenting and the feeling of belonging. It was missing until now. A piece of me will always be in India. 

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