I pulled into the parking lot of the Benjamin L. Hooks Central library on what, for me, was an ordinary day. After searching unsuccessfully for a parking space, when I ordinarily would have no problem finding one, I wondered aloud what the “problem” might be. Several minutes and loops later I walked away from my parked car and into the lobby of the library where hundreds of people were gathered.  
“What’s going on?” I asked the security guard, now viewing my visit as more problematic than necessary, as I pondered whether the maneuvering both outside and inside of the library was worth finding and checking out the single book for which I had come. 
“They’re having a naturalization service,” she explained. Instantly, my mood and attitude changed and the “problems” disappeared. For the remainder of my visit, I was preoccupied with what this day might mean for many, if not all, of those standing in the lobby of our central library. 
 
When I was growing up in The Bahamas my friends and I always talked about our dreams of one day moving to the United States. The images we saw portrayed on television and the stories we were told by those who’d been and returned home made us long for the chance to be part of something so big, it was truly what dreams were made of. As I got older, family members pushed me to do well in school so that I could “attend college in the U.S.” and, subsequently, “work in the U.S.” because it was here where so many opportunities lay. For many of us who have come here from other countries, despite the difficulties we encounter, despite the sometimes excruciatingly painful journey we endure to reach those dreams, there is still no doubt that we have been given the extraordinary chance to be a part of one the greatest countries in the world. For some of us, our journey has brought us here to Memphis and we long to make the best of those opportunities desired by many but given only to a chosen few. 
 
I walked out of the library and looked around. Some who’d become naturalized held up their certificates and smiled for the cameras, family and friends in front of them. One woman in particular communicated a joy and radiance that could not be ignored and I couldn’t help but walk over and congratulate her- Nardine- a native of Jamaica.  
 
“When I got it in hand it was like a child getting their very first ice cream cone and realizing, ‘oh, this is really, really good’,” she said to me about receiving her naturalization certificate. “I had to cry. I’m an American now.” For Nardine, becoming a United States citizen was the happy ending to “a combination of sufferings,” including leaving behind her mother (who still resides in Jamaica) and learning to adapt in environments where things once common (such as Jamaican food products) are nearly impossible to find. Yet in all of this she expresses a gratitude and appreciation for what she has been given and what she has learned in the process. 
 
“This country has afforded me lots of opportunities: nursing school, owning my car. And I am not afraid of doing what I have to do to make it.”  
 
Nardine, who like me and so many others who grew up in other countries, is living in the realization of one of her biggest dreams. As a nurse here in Memphis, she is taking the opportunities given her to make a difference in the lives of others. And I believe the tears that fell when she made it through the suffering to her happy ending are translated into empathy for her patients that she otherwise may not have.   
 
Congratulations, Nardine, and I hope you enjoy many more ice cream cones!