I haven't spoken for nearly ten years. So when I boarded the plane to America I had to speak, and what came out of my mouth was the harshest voice I had ever heard. "Salut." Said the man taking my passport.

I nodded to him and smiled. "Salut."

The man gave me a strange look as I said hello. However, he went back to looking at my passport. I waited as he looked it over, and then he gave me my passport back. "Multumesc." I said smiling at him. He nodded . "Cu Placere, Norco."

I nodded to him and put my sunglasses on again. I couldn't believe that my voice was that hoarse. I couldn't even recognize it. I sat there waiting to board my plane. Things had become complicated as life went on longer. I was listening to Mazzy Star as I looked down at the silver pocket watch the hung from my belt. Loathing swelled up inside me as I touched the cool metal. Why was I the one that had to be cursed?

I didn't know when I would die or if I would. I just knew that everything bad that happens to me; everything that should kill me, doesn't. It just hurts like a bitch. I should have died hundreds of times. Then there was the fact that my people were still looking for me and that I couldn't keep a name for more than five years. I didn't know what I was going to call myself this time. Cleo? Nope. Christa? Neit. Harmony? I Chuckled. God, no. How about Margreete? The voice had come to me nearly a hundred years ago and rarely did it have good insight. That's not bad, I thought.

I boarded the plane and started to think about home. The home that I never wanted to go back to. I missed my mother, but that was the only person I missed. Sometimes one has to just go with what life gives you. I looked out my window seat and smiled to the small Romanian town and to the country that I had loved so dearly. "Good-bye. Maybe we will see each other in a few decades."