My personal experience of revisiting the village I grew up in was both emotional and unforgettable.
My hometown had not physically changed, but it was a completely different place in the spiritual aspect. Growing up socioeconomically disadvantaged, I had no concept of the differentiation
between rich and poor. Also, education was not a priority. My appreciation for the small
Russian village of Chelkasy was absent. I quickly grew bored of the same daily activities such as fishing, exploring in nature, and climbing the Birch trees surrounding the village. I found my home to be an empty place and began wondering what my life would be like if I lived in a more urbanized city. These dreams lead me to the passage for America.
When I was sixteen, I found myself living on the opposite side of the world in the United
States. It had been ten years since I had seen those village birch trees or visited my kindhearted brother (whom still lived in Russia). The decision to move back was difficult, but I finally packed my bags, booked a ticket for the first plane ride back to Russia, and landed in Moscow.
The emotions going on inside my head were mixed with nerves and excitement. I remembered every road, street, and turn. My childhood memories that had been long forgotten suddenly rushed back into my head. The feeling was indescribable. In front of me were dark forests, huge