2025/Kyle-

Ever since I was a young child, I have always had one place I called home: Damascus, Oregon. Being a military child and moving around every year or two, my family never owned or established a place as our specific home. But what I call home is the home of my elderly Romanian grandparents in Oregon. Located east of Portland, the only stationary house I ever called home remains.

1999 is the year when my Dad graduated from the University of Portland ROTC and married my Mom. Eleven years later, I was born in Las Vegas. From then on, almost every summer and holiday we spent away from my military home was in Damascus. Being a military child and constantly moving never really affected me. Most people are shocked by the amount of moving my family does and frequently inquire about how my sister and I do it; my response is that “I was born into it.” That is one reason, but everyone needs stability in their life, and that was SE Wooded Hills Drive for me.

Oregon always felt like home, a place that I was always familiar with. Down the road from my grandparents' house, at the bottom of their hill, is my uncle’s house with his five kids. I have countless memories of playing, boating, fishing, and road-tripping with these cousins. Their close proximity and constant appearance on our trips to Oregon made my grandparents’ house feel even more like home. The constant baking and kinship of my mom’s extended family made the house even sweeter.

My grandparents and my Mom lived in Romania until 1988, the year before my Grandpa fled to America, escaping Ceaușescu’s regime. My grandparents made a life for themselves in Portland.. It wasn't until the early 2000s that my grandparents built SE Wooded Hills Dr. Going from having nothing to owning a nice house in the woods surrounding Portland was definitely life-changing for them. I still notice the tendencies they learned as kids growing up in Soviet Union occupied Romania, and I love them for it. They are never short of stories and love — and of spoiling my sister and me. They always made sure to tell us that their home was our home, and that was the final reassurance that their home was my home.

Even though I moved constantly, my Grandparents' wooden abode was always my true home. It was the one place that stayed the same, filled with family, love, and memories. My grandparents built a life there, turning it into a symbol of stability for me. No matter where I go, I know home is where my family is - in Damascus, Oregon.