I met my family sixteen years ago today. In a room half way around the world, I saw them for the first time. I was eighteen months old and curious about the new room I found myself in. Things were a little rocky at first, me getting used to them and them getting used to me. A few days later, we flew to the United States. I insisted on being in my daddy's lap for the entire flight, no one else would do. In Alaska, I napped in my new house and my brother wanted to meet me and give me a hug. I screamed at him because he woke me, which scared him. (People say first impressions are everything.) I didn't know at the time that the house would become my home and that my family would be mine forever. Happy Gotcha Day Family!