Remunerating on Life - Essay Example

It used to be a quandary why people from diverse parts of the world dream about migrating to the United States. My native land is the Philippines, a Southeast Asian country known for people with warm smiles with genuinely optimistic dispositions. I had been living in the United States for 10 years now and am married to one of the most loving and affectionate people I had the privilege of meeting in my life. Before migrating to the United States, I perceived it to be a land of milk and honey – a paradise that would offer vast opportunities that would drastically change my simple and boring life. I was wrong.

I never thought I would ever leave the Philippines. I was brought up by parents who were completely supportive of my holistic needs – as well as those of my siblings. I am the eldest in the brood with one feisty brother and one totally gregarious sister. I was the timid one; wholly and totally satisfied to be confined in my neat and cozy shell.

My parents were both working in the old commercial district of Manila. I remember bidding them daily goodbyes as I was barely awake, stirring sleepily from our shared bed. I was confidently placed under the tender, loving care of my maternal grandmother, who, together with a totally high-tempered grandfather, made sure that my day was full of fun activities to keep me away from mischief. A routine and ordinary day comprised of watching the chicken being fed in the backyard, playing hide and seek, getting a mandatory siesta, indulging in native delicacies as snacks, and patiently waiting for the return of my parents from work.

The sheltered and traditional practice of child care that was applied partly contributed to the shy behavior. Entering school one month late was another. My working mother must have missed the fact that I was already old enough at five to enter kindergarten. The feeling of being watched and stared at by a bunch of school kids who were already familiar with each other gave me a traumatic experience about early education. I refused to socialize and fairly developed my interpersonal skills. I was always anxious to go home and return to my safe refuge.

My family was my life. Both parents were the eldest in their respective nuclear families. Both have seven siblings. Our nuclear family lived with my maternal familial lineage. Growing up meant sharing every possible thing with relatives: shelter, food, time, entertainment, stories, laughter, sorrows, emotions, bonds, life. Every meal was a feast to behold – taking into account the number of people sharing the meal, despite the modesty and simplicity of the blessing. Every night was spent in front of the black and white television set watching programs that were legends in their own rights: Hawaii Five-O, Six Million Dollar Man, Wild Wild West, Mission Impossible, and local programs. I was never aware that there would come a time when we would all part ways.

My godfather, who was also my uncle, first left for the United States to try his luck. I could barely understand what that meant – except that he would leave his motorcycle and entrusted it to his brother.

My auntie, a very skilled baker, who loved to bake all sorts of pastries: pineapple pies, cakes, waffles, was the next to migrate to the U.S.  I will never forget that she was the person who introduced me to one of my most loved cakes of all time, Sans Rival. I can still remember the afternoon she started preparing to bake it. The ingredients were lined up in structured order: butter, flour, sugar, cashew nuts, among others.  I was so excited to taste the cake that smelled so good and took so painstakingly long to prepare. I realized that was the first and last time I would savor the recipe from her.

Marriage, death, and simply growing up were other reasons for parting. I was already in my teens when I tried to get in touch with relatives who lived in America. I missed them so much that I dreamed of being reconnected with them. The failing health of my parents likewise provided the impetus for a persistent determination to find ways and means to migrate. Luckily, a friend of my auntie, who then connected with a global corporation in New York, started sending me letters of friendship that turned to romance.

I came to the US on a fiancée visa to see for myself what the commotion is all about in this land of milk and honey. Only after a month, I was married and have now a nine-year-old daughter with smiling eyes and fair silky skin. I found out that America is so developed and advanced – a far cry from the native land where I came from. The culture is drastically diverse after accommodating people from different ethnic backgrounds and orientations. The pace of living is so fast as I perceive residents always in a hurry to some particular destination. The amount of technological development in all aspects of life contributes to a more convenient and comfortable way of living. The opportunities for personal and professional growth are immense and varied. I was completely assimilated into Western culture and have learned to adapt and adjust to the values, beliefs, and traditions posed by the American dream.

Before migrating to the United States, I perceived it to be a land of milk and honey – a paradise that would offer vast opportunities that would drastically change my simple and boring life. I was wrong. It was more than what I had expected. It surpassed everything that I have dreamed of. America did not only provide me with opportunities for growth – it embraced me into its bosom, as a mother gladly rejoicing the life of its own.