I’ve come to love hearing bits of Chinese conversations as I pass them on the street or as I sit on the subway. It makes me smile. I feel tempted to turn to them and impress them with my limited amount of Chinese and watch as their face widens when I tell them I lived in Beijing for two and half years. I don’t though. Instead, I reflect about a strange period of my life when I called China home. I feel a tinge of nostalgia and I am reminded of all that happened in those two and a half years; of all the things that broke me and changed me, that led to who I am today.