Nearly 30 years ago today, I timidly walked behind my mother as we trotted down the jetway and took our first breaths at the San Francisco International Airport.
My new backpack bobbed to my steps, my hair an unsightly mess from the 12-hour redeye flight. One hand held tightly onto my baby sister, the other, my all-important passport.
“Be careful and do not lose this”, my mother had instructed for the hundredth time.