When I think about my Global Citizen Year, I consider leaving out the last two weeks. That way, I can describe life in my rural community, painting a picture as bright and beautiful as the polleras my indigenous used-to-be-host-mom wore. It can be a picture as complete as my five-year-old used-to-be-host-sister’s drawing of her family” on her test that featured a tall girl in pants (me). But that’s the problem: I moved.