I Had Forgotten That Girl
This week, someone reminded me who I was before I had a CV.
Before Milan. Before the UN. Before job titles. Before marriage and motherhood. Before I had all these adult ways of explaining who I am.
I was 17.
I had just landed at Auckland Airport with a suitcase and the absolute confidence that I spoke English.
I did not.
Or at least, I did not speak New Zealand English.
Peter picked me up at the airport that day.
He was part of the Rotary Club hosting me during my exchange year, but that doesn’t really explain who he became to me.
He was never officially one of my host parents, but he treated…
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