Indonesian By Birth, American By Choice

Readers,

I apologize for not writing for a long time! WordPress had been wacky, my last post got vanished and even with their two volunteers checking and trying to fix the issue, apparently my last post did not come back. So yea, I was pouting in the corner for a while. Anyway, pouting time is over, time to rock the blog!

Today is the 4th, one of the BIG day folks here in this land think as, well, a BIG day. Lawn chairs are out, grills are smokin’ and friends are gathering. Fireworks decorate the dark skies and flags dance in the wind. We remember what our soldiers have fought for us. We check the cooler to ensure drinks are still cold and the guests are happy.

And I came, to be part of this, in my adult life. I chose to be one of you.

I was born as Indonesian citizen. I carried this until my 30s.  I speak the language, uplift the culture and drove in the left side of the road. I cook spicy food and everyone was born with black hair, tan skin and dark brown eyes. I know how to hail taxi, run across the road during busy hours and stand by the bus’ door (yes it was that jammed packed) all the way to destination. I know how to identify pickpocket and I carried a box cutter in my purse, just in case. I was living in Indonesia. The nation over 13,700 islands lay, big and small.  I grew up in the capital city, to be precise. Where traffic jam is considered a lifestyle, pollution is horrendeous and crime is skyrocketing, but also a place wherever you drive for few hours and you’ll bump into beach. The place where cats and chicken roam free on the road and pork meat is hard to find.  The place where over 700 local languages exist and almost everyone can speak in more than one language.  You think bilingual is something special? Not where I came from!

Then I moved to US.  The land that gives ample of fresh clean air and squirrels all over the place.  The one that is kind enough to give me the best man I can call my husband. The place that force me to drive. The place where I made my first big loan: A small house to call my home. A small Cape Cod right by the city limit. This is my new life. A new root of life has been planted.

Then came the time when decision could be made (along with paperwork to be submitted and fees to be paid). Why bother inquiring citizenship when I actually can stay being a green-card holder, you say? This land has been a home for me. My husband and my child were born here. I could still be happy and provided the same being a green-card holder, but being a citizen, I could give more. I can take a part and voice out my choice when election comes. I can work for the government if I want to. I want to belong here. In the land that has been giving fresh air, squirrels on the yard, pretty flowers by the highways and good education for my child. It’s my sense of belonging, justified by a piece of paper and a passport. I became American, by my own choice. I chose to be American.

So here I am today. Still cooking spicy food and I know to how to cross a busy street (which make drivers nervous). Still talk in more than two languages and yet you will, I assure you, find one or two grammatical errors. I adopted the Old Glory as my own.  This is my land,  my home.

Happy Birthday America, from someone who chose to be a part of you.