"Are you SURE we have to move to Korea?" I asked my mom, immediately knowing that I sounded like the bratty teens in the movies who also got nose piercings without their parents' permission and smoked cigarettes under street lamps, brooding about death and whatnot. "I mean, I'm literally on my final year of highschool. And then I can go to university and you and dad can move wherever you guys want. Move to Peru. It really doesn't matter to me a year from now. But current me? It definitely matters a slight bit more." 

My mom sighed. She was used to me being overdramatic. "Hannah," she started, using a tone that meant 'I'm gonna have to be your parent now and you're gonna have to listen to me'. "I love you. But this is a huge promotion for me, and it's not like we're not Korean. Think of it as finally going home."

"I am Korean by ethnicity, sure, but I've never actually, you know, been. This significantly puts a damper on me considering Korea as my home," I told her. It was the truth. I was used to the business of Canada, the fact that we had syrup with every meal, and going to hockey games with my multi-ethnicitied friend group. Canada was my home. And I was so close to graduating highschool. Why did I have to shake things up so significantly now?

"You speak Korean, you write Korean, you eat the Korean food that I make at home sometimes. You're Korean." My mother was getting increasingly snippier the more I whined. Which made sense. But I also hated it. "And you're going to come to Seoul, and you're going to have fun. I'm not going to tell you again. You're a bright young girl and you're going to grow as a person or whatever. Think of this change as an awakening."

I didn't need an awakening. I love sleep. But I just shrugged. 

When life hands you lemons, think about how much you like other fruite ten times better, but don't be unpleasant about it. I suppose if my life is changing, I might as well make sure it's a change for the better.