Mission Impossible

If fate had played out its steady course, I would’ve been a junior law student, hunched over pages of Taxation and Ethics, burning my eyelids as our old folks would say, in my humble place in Sampaloc, some 2 miles from my school in the Philippines. But instead, I am in my scrubs 32 hours a week, 10,000 miles from home, in a job that could be considered as very menial and degrading, at least, in my country’s discriminatory yet superficial standards. After I found out that I had the opportunity of migrating to the United States, I left my homeland 2 years ago with a burning zeal that I would be better than a lawyer could be. The decision has nothing against my motherland, in fairness to the country who in itself is continuously trying to resolve its internal and external conflicts amidst the chaos of economic and political strife that happens to be everyday news. This choice, whether to continue living in a 3rd world or chase the American dream that so many immigrants from all over the globe have been doing since time immemorial, was the hardest decision I have made so far. After all, it’s not easy to sacrifice a goal that was almost in your hands. All immigrants in one way or another share the same cause of moving here and that is to seek a greener pasture not only for themselves but more so for their future families; that having sufficient amount of food on the table, clothes in their closets and a roof over their heads may not be enough reasons to be happy and contented. And by being one of them, I am willing to risk everything, whatever the price may be. In doing so, I do hope that when I look back 10 years from now, I can certainly say that I’ve taken the right path on my hardest decision.