The first time I ever stepped foot into United States was on the 4th of July. I didn’t realize it then, but looking back it feels symbolic.

I will never forget that day. We flew into Chicago. I recall seeing the city Skyline and the shores of Lake Michigan. A sight to behold.

I knew nothing of racism, of left, of right. I only saw people. A diverse people. A kind, and welcoming people.

I also recall being amazed at seeing grocery stores full of food and you could just pick up anything you like and put in a basket / cart. It was just sitting out there… and you could walk among the isles and grab anything your stomach desired. So much food.

Little did I know, on this day we would eat a lot of food and be around warm and welcoming people.

We’d also go on boats, eat some more food and enjoy the fireworks. So much food.

It may be imperfect in so many ways, but it is the nation I feel most at home.

Happy 4th of July 🇺🇸, friends.

If I put my secrets here as a form of therapy, who can see it and can it be used against me legally?