We had been in America for three whole days when I asked my four-year-old at the breakfast table if she was missing home in the Himalayas. She popped raspberries and sausages into her mouth carelessly, her skinned legs penduluming back and forth contentedly.  “Nope. I like America better.” Was her decisive reply. I grinned. It was definitely the maple-flavored pork and berries speaking.  “What about you, Mom?” She asked back, her eyes steely blue.  “I like both places.” I said, as I stirred cream in my coffee. “No, you have to choose,” She surprised me by answering. We were fresh from a vegetarian world with limited produce and I was…