Last year, I went to China to visit my Grandmother and Mom's side of the family during Chinese New Year. They've lived in the same city since the '70s. The last time that I had seen them was in 2011, back when I was only 12 years old. I was now twice the age at 24, and could barely recognize my family.

We've always lived across the world from another, but they've all supported me fully. I would often speak to my Grandmother over the phone, where she'd pelt me with compliments on how well-behaved I was. She raised my Mom, and maybe that's just a reflection of her. My Grandmother's spirit and heart was on full-display for me.

Day-to-day life in China was a complete-one-eighty from what I had grown accustomed to in the States. Mopeds instead of cars, fruit vendors on the street, chickens in cages, you name it. It felt simple. It wasn't a trip that was filled with crazy sights or money, but it was the richest vacation I had been on. I wouldn't have wanted to be anywhere else in the world, the connection between my family and I weighed more than anything any other destination could have to offer. As my Mom would say, she comes from a good family, and I wholeheartedly agree. I miss them all.