Brave new world

As I write, it’s the middle of spring in this part of the world. And as the seasons continue to move from the harsh cold of winter and prepare for heartwarming summer, so do my pride and faith in reality.

I’m the eldest child and only girl in a brood of four. I graduated from the University of the Philippines School of Economics in 2012. At 22, I was serving the nation in a government office that values anonymity.

My family migrated to the United States last March, after more than two decades of waiting for the approval of petition papers. News of the approval came one cold, restless-from-overtime-work morning in December 2013, through an overseas call from a cousin. My initial reaction? Ambivalence. I shed tears of joy because my parents’ long wait was over. But I also cried because of sadness…

Why? Why now? Why only now, when everything (I guess) seemed to be in place? Why now, when I was happy and fulfilled with my job and with my colleagues? Why now, when my best friends in the province were moving to Manila and we could finally experience city life together? Why now, when I was at the almost-peak of adventure, youth (seriously), and independence?

I had never really considered the thought of one day living abroad. I had always thought that I would be too old to be eligible when the papers were approved. A US law states that, depending on the petition case, only petitioned children below 21 are eligible for an immigration visa. I’m 22. But then my case has been considered due to the Child Status Protection Act of 2009.

I had always imagined experiencing my legendary moments in my beloved Philippines, shared with my friends and family. These, of course, included my wedding one day (yes, I watched “How I Met Your Mother” Season 9, Episode 17). But then—reality check—I guess it will not happen anymore (I’m still in denial, please).

I had three months to say goodbye to my plans, hopes and dreams. I had only three months to prepare for this reality. I cried almost every cold night of those three months. As the United States was experiencing one of the harshest winters of the decade, I was grappling with the greatest change in my life.

It was difficult to study and work in the city away from my family and friends in the province because I had to travel for four to five hours almost every weekend to be with them. But moving thousands of miles to a country with a completely different culture, with no assurance of when I could go back to my home country and still be welcomed by my relatives and friends the way they previously did… It would be a complete life overhaul.

I thought: I am not good at saying goodbye even if I always say that nothing’s permanent in this world. This is the greatest chapter shift (or even a new book) of my life yet.

Fast forward to May. It had been nearly three months since we moved here. Everything is new, and I haven’t done well in the “moving on” part. Yes, my family and almost all the members of the clan on my mother’s side are here. But, still, the question of why we (I) had to move here when we (I) had a happy, stable, and contented life in the Philippines still pops up in my mind, especially during those times when I miss life with my friends back there (which is like almost every day).

Everything has changed. I have no friends. I have no cash. The resumé that I had built for years with pride, that I thought would help me secure my life, is not even recognized here. But I am not losing hope. I still (really) have a lot of adjusting and moving on to do. Please, Uncle Sam, bear with me as I face this uncertain future.

I started writing this piece in March, when I first missed my inuman (drinking) sessions back home. I am ending it as I start my first job here as a part-time, entry-level member of the service crew at a famous coffee shop. As I jokingly promised my college friends back in the Philippines before I left, I am now on for the Best Service Crew of the Month! I am now on for the better summertime of my life! Let’s go, reality!

Dinkie Carpio, 22, says she is a  promdi   in America’s Chicago.