It feels double-edged and ambivalent to express my inner belongingness, people left and right are anti-America. Yet here I am, where I have to be, and my heart is at home with the brave ones.

Education is of utmost importance in life: to get ahead in the work place, make a name for yourself and earn a good place in society. Parents undoubtedly want the best for their offspring. So when they can afford to, they send their children abroad to get better education, opening the door for greater opportunities in life.
The aftermath of education abroad is bittersweet. Some of those returning to their native country achieve what they’ve been striving for; a good life i.e., job, money and fame. That is the sweet part. But a bitter side also exists simultaneously: after returning to their native land, their heart and mind still remains in the country where the horizons of their education and world view were broadened.
I spent nine years in America and it is there where my heart remains. So I ask, if home is where your heart is, what do you call the place where you were born and now reside? It is not easy to be an American, especially not when a tragedy like 9/11 strikes unexpectedly, or other horrific incidents like the sniper shooting make the news. The people I care for and I respect, friends who are like family to me are so far away, that this physical distance between us leaves me feeling helpless. I con-template this inner turmoil: all these terrible things are happening, and I could say I am not an American. Yet when tragedy strikes, why does it effect me in such a way that I feel as I was just that, an American!

It feels double-edged and ambivalent to express my inner belongingness, people left and right are anti-America. Yet here I am, where I have to be, and my heart is at home with the brave ones.