Parents always at least once explains to their child, how their birth was like, you know, the "miracle of life" speech. How you saw the vivid colors and textures of life for the first time. How you could hear your mother's voice and immediately stopped crying. How your mother felt the touch of your soft, smooth skin. This was embarrassing to hear of course, but I got over it. When I was born I was eight pounds, sixteen ounces. I had bright blue eyes and soft, silky brown hair. My Name is Yoda Takahashi. I'am twenty-one years old.
"No, I refuse to go mommy, you can't make me go!" I shouted towards my mother. "You have to Yoda-Sama, you have to learn new things and make friends." She tried to sound reassuring. "What If they don't like me?" I had asked the most obvious question. "They will, just be yourself Yoda." She answered as calmly as she could muster. "Well, okay. I will try." I agreed. "Run along now, before you are late." She hurried me off. "Okay, see you after school mommy!" I think back now, and realized that if I told that story of my first day of school to the guys, it would be pretty embarrassing. Not that I would even consider sharing my past with them! But those were the days; I would rather be five, back in preschool, than to be where I am now. In a foreign country fighting a battle that wasn't mine. "Sigh"