Eyes closed and sleeping. Three feet from the ceiling and not far from the rickety old ceiling fan that probably has not worked since they bought the house. Unconscious of anything outside of my dreams, I am awoken by the light from my sister’s Grehtil’s room, which Mama Monica had turned on. I look over to the hole in the wall that connects to two small room sand see my mother looking at me. Waving me to follow her. I crawl out of my holey sheets, half awake and not wanting to get out of my warm bed. I make the five-foot jump to the floor. Trying not to hit Maggie, my comrade in war, who sleeps beneath me. As well as making sure not to knock myself out by the dresser and coffee table that take up our tiny room, that would be a sad excuse for a bathroom let alone a bedroom back in the States. My feet hit the raggedy blue piece of carpet that barely covers the white tiled floor, and try not to trip over the cloths spread over the floor from the day before.