Simona, my birth mother, named me Fernanda which means “bold voyager.” A voyager is someone who is on a journey.  I like to think it fits me perfectly.

 My first  journey began at age two when I moved to a home called “La Casa”,where I grew up. I lived there with Simona and my brother Jose.

Later that year I met Maria. She was caring and would often come to play. We instantly clicked but I never could predict where this would lead to.

Simona had a vision for me and made the difficult decision to give me up for adoption. Maria adopted me saying “Our journey has only begun.” 

Being a mom is about loving your children and sometimes making tough choices.

Since being adopted I have lived with Maria, and I now call her mom. She was right, our journey had just begun and we’ve had many adventures since. 

We’ve traveled, I’ve started new schools, and visited my birth family.

Growing up, I never could understand why at my new home there was a pool while my birth brothers never learned how to swim. 

I never got why I had my own room stocked with toys and decorations while at their house my three brothers were packed into one room. 

Not until I received an assignment and went on a journey to learn why this was...

I approached  my Mom saying “I have a problem.” 

I told her my teacher assigned us a project to design a picture of our home. We then had to talk about what we loved about our home and our families who live inside of it.

“I don’t mean to sound clueless but I haven’t yet seen the problem,” she replies. 

I respond saying I can’t seem to decide which house to draw- I have multiple places I call home. 

“Hmm...maybe the instructions are wrong?” 

“I never thought about that”

“Why not draw them all?”

But the instructions clearly state draw only YOUR home and nothing else.”

I sat down on the porch table and began my work. I started drawing the house I live in. 

There is a green yard with flowers along the path to the door. The house itself is red brick and there is a small garage. The inside is simple but there is plenty of space. 

There are enough rooms for a guest and two bathrooms to share. In the back we have our sun porch where we eat breakfast. We have the pool, and a mini veggie garden. 

I draw me and my mom. I lay my pencils down...it still feels incomplete. 

During dinner I decide to show my mom the picture. She loves it, but can tell something is wrong.

I explain, “Not all my family and homes are in this picture. And, actually… none of my other homes look like this? Why is that?” 

“Ah, I see” she says. "What if we draw them together? It will help me better understand and talk with you." 

So, we lay out an even bigger piece of paper, crayons, pencils, erasers, and get to work. We go on a journey around the city and even the world to draw my homes! 

“I’ve already drawn our house and next we have the home my brothers live in.” 

I draw as I begin talking. 

“Hmm, well they live in an apartment. It is at the bottom of a two-story apartment building." 

Inside, they have a corner kitchen and small living room...but it doesn’t have any furniture. Why is this?”

“Some families can’t afford to have furniture in their homes. Money for food, clothes, and gas has to come first. It can be hard to not have what other people have but it's not because your family doesn’t work hard enough.”

“You’re right. Simona even has two jobs! She tells me about cleaning laundry and then only an hour later working as a cleaner at Mr. Gattis, the arcade. I remember when I was younger I used to be embarrassed about that.” 

“I understand, but the work she does is very important and it allows others to do their jobs as well!”

“Then upstairs...there is one bathroom and two rooms. My mom uses the smaller one and my three brothers share the other. I remember that the bathroom sometimes leaks. Ours used to but we got it fixed. Why can’t they get theirs fixed?” 

“Well, where Simona and your brothers live they have what is called a landlord. This person decides if they will fix things or not. Sometimes they decide things are not important or make promises they don’t keep.”

“That doesn’t seem fair…”I say. “It’s not,” my Mom replies. 

I blush as I start to draw the next house. “I know I’ve never been to where my family is from in Mexico, but it still feels like my home. Simona has shown me lots of pictures of our family living in San Juan Quiahije. 

She calls it an indigenous community- they don't even speak Spanish there they speak Chatino.”