My 23-year old son asked me this question as we stood at the kitchen counter chopping vegetables for the stir fry we were putting together for dinner. His question caught me my surprise. I looked at him and asked, “You mean when you first came to live in America?” He shook his head affirmatively. He laughed a little and said softly, “I don’t know why I acted that way.” We both smiled as we talked about how years before he had told us through tears that our family was “no good,” that we just “bought” him because we wanted someone to order around, and the many times he told us he wanted to return to Russia. Read More