More than a decade in immigration. You start to forget your home. Or do you?

I’m trying to remember which app I used to navigate around Moscow, but I can’t recall. Did I use Google Maps? I don’t think so. It must have been Yandex Maps. But I don’t remember entering the destination in the same way you do in Google or Apple Maps.

And if I were in Moscow today, would I be able to find my way around its main avenues radiating from the city center? I used to navigate them without needing a smartphone, but now I’m starting to forget even their names. Kashirskoye Shosse, for example. It took me a moment to recall the name of this artery in the south of the city.

I have a chat group with my four close friends; only one stayed in Russia. The other day, I was asked what language I speak with my kids.

“It’s a mix of English and Russian,” I explained.

“Do they introduce themselves as Russian?” one of my other friends asked.

Not really, I explained. I mean, my kids don’t introduce themselves at all. They’ve grown up in America, so the very notion of introducing themselves based on their place of birth or even their early childhood years is a little strange.

I am different, however. I introduce myself as Russian all the time. There’s no deep thought behind it; it’s almost instinctual. While I don’t have a strong Russian accent, I have a slight foreign accent, and I know that sooner or later I will hear the question, “Where are you from?” so I…