But this date tugs at me every time it comes. I remember clearly the day--the black silk pumps I wore, the outfit with gold buttons that ran straight down the middle, how my shoulders bunched up and left an ache down the sides of my neck and the base of my skull, how the people I met and ran across with looked different. Gone was the multitude of ebony hair I was most accustomed to; replaced now by a predominant color of different shades of blond--caramel blond, chestnut, dirty blond and strawberry blond.
I remember how my heart beat fast and exhaustion and nausea was taking a toll leaving me to wonder, "Did I make the right choice?"
In the slough of people pacing in a hurry here and there, heads either looking up or staring down, each had a purpose or business to accomplish while boxed speakers situated inconspicously announcing their times of departure or arrival, I see heads bearing the same mane as mine.
I delight in seeing them, but gazing in their owner's eyes, I am left feeling as if I'm but a small fish in a massive ocean. The current and tides churning us all. The familiarity was gone. The bridge had already been burned. There was no turning back.
I wheel my suitcase searching for a sign. "Welcome to LAX," was the first one I saw. Then, in the awaiting crowd, a small cardboard sign bore my name. It was held by R.W., a man whom I soon would find out was the one I'd be working with under the employ of his oldest brother Ferd, who owns an architectural/engineering firm in Southern California.
September 1st would mark my 23rd year of being in this country.
A lot of things had happened since then. The architectural firm I worked for no longer exists. Ferd had passed away years after I left while R.W., from what I heard, had moved to Hong Kong. There were heartbreaks and betrayals as years went along. I moved two states away for the sole purpose of finding who I truly am and trials and triumphs punctuated my path.
(Here I met a wonderful man and to this day we are still together. Our two kids grace our lives as we forge on).
As I look back to my own personal history, I've realized things--good and bad--were placed in their significant spots. Because of them I am left much more aware of who I am and what my place is in this world of ours.
