The most painful words a 9-year-old can hear is "ne mutam." Translated from Romanian to English it means "we're moving." I recall telling my friend Walter about the move. Honestly, Walter and I weren't even that close, but he was the one kid I remember missing and the feelings were actually mutual (cue the insecurities). We didn't move far—only about two miles west of Six Corners in Chicago. Nevertheless, the hurt was real. It didn't make sense to me at the time. At least my parents were nice enough to include us in the house hunt. The house my parents chose is the same house they live in today.

Brittney and I married over eight years ago. We stayed in the city as I was going to pharmacy school. On that fateful day in July of 2012, we moved three hours west to Moline. With all the pretense in the world, I flaunted the sentiment of ambivalence like a boss. I actually believed the lie. The loneliness was tangible. This past summer we celebrated at a picnic for my best friend's wedding. Of course, it was a wonderful time, but the void expanded in some paradoxical sense. Seeing my childhood and closest friends even momentarily made me miss them more after the occasion. It wasn't satisfying enough. With life being busy for us and the people with whom we interact, it has been quite difficult making many friends. "Being a family of five, how can you say you're lonely?" If you grew up with a village of people that knew you and your faults, it may not be so difficult to empathize. It is a common experience.

Honestly, though, don't ask me why I think moving blows so hard. Even if the transitions were not easy, I have no reason to complain. In the summer of 1988, my parents moved our whole family from communist Romania to one of the freest nations in the world. They had no clue the collapse of communism was imminent, but they didn't care. They decided the best chance for their kids was to leave everything behind and start fresh in a country where people spoke and acted very differently. It must have been exceedingly difficult and emotional leaving their comforts, family, and friends. They came here to work minimum wage jobs and live in borderline American poverty. My mom became a licensed nail technician and my father a licensed phone technician. They didn't care for tons of money or extravagant things, they just wanted to give us the opportunity to succeed in a very real way.

If it weren't for my parents' courage and drive, I don't believe we would have achieved as much as we have. Currently, my oldest sister is a pharmacist, my other sister is a bank branch manager, my older brother is a music instructor, and I am a pharmacist. This country could go to hell in a hand basket, but I still believe our parents brought us to the best possible situation. Ultimately, it taught me to think of others before myself and try to give more than I receive. An ethic that has transformed my life about as much as my worldview.