I didn’t want to move to the new house. A dozen of boxes where occuping the living room where I made my first steps.

It was when I had to clear the attic that I saw an old photo: there was a baby me, my parents a little girl with us, but I didn’t know who she was. So I asked my parents and I discovered that she was a cousin of mine who had moved to America when I was only 3. I instantly opened my instagram and searched for her, Amanda, that’s how she was called. We had a long videocall, and I discovered that our family was much more than I expected: we were really far, but right in the moment when I had to go away from the place where I was born, I understood that she was much nearer than I had imagined. A simple videocall, our messages, her presence, her help and her smile. I was leaving my roots, but I had found new ones.