I’d set his alarm for 5am. I can only assume that it was only moments after that I felt him elbowing me to wake up. I’d only been asleep for a few hours and my groaning as he woke me was testament to that fact. I didn’t fully understand his almost palpable excitement. I was cranky and slowly dragged myself off to the shower. He seemed to have a little extra pep in his step as well as an understandable nervousness. Of course I’d accompany him on his big day. It was a day that I would never have myself but one that he’d been waiting for since his arrival to the United States. It was the day he hoped he’d become an American citizen.
We fought, as many married couples do, prior to even exiting our neighborhood. It was early in the morning and tensions were high. I’d still been on edge about our finances. It was a constant weight that I’ve carried for months. My mood and thoughts were forever in that space. I’m sure that I could’ve and should’ve been far more understanding of what he must’ve been feeling. I was born in the United States. Like many others, I often take that for granted. I wake up most mornings never thinking about the fact that I’m in pursuit of my own American Dream, a dream that was essentially my own birthright. I suppose that as someone who’s born here it’s lost on us. We have expectations and demands that many want and dream of. My husband, having moved to the US from Trinidad in the late nineties, was always in pursuit of this dream. After years of waiting he was finally reached the point where he could seek citizenship on his own. He’s never had the opportunity to do the handful of things that we as Americans often lament. He’s not yet experienced the excitement of casting his ballot nor has he had the privilege of being summoned for jury duty. These were both among the list of things he’d desperately wanted to do. Read the rest of this entry »
