I leaf through a green passport, issued in 1962 in San Francisco, my first passport. I’m four, pictured with my mother in our shared US passport. Mom’s name and characteristics are noted, but mine are not, so my identity is murky. Below her brunette hair styled in a high bouffant, Mom is smiling slightly, while …
I discovered that I was an adult third-culture kid, the term for people like me who grew up overseas in an expat family.