A love letter to my mother, You were just 12 years old when you crossed into a country that wasn’t yours, holding onto your mom and siblings, leaving behind everything familiar because staying meant danger. People talk about immigration like it’s a choice made lightly. Like it’s easy. Like it’s a shortcut. But what they don’t see is the fear. The loss. The years of uncertainty. The childhood you didn’t get to fully live because survival came first. You carried sacrifices on your back so I wouldn’t have to. You endured things you never complain about so I could dream bigger than you were ever allowed to. Because of you, I have a master’s degree. Because of you, I built my own business. Because of you, I work in my dream job. Because of you, I can bless others. Because of you, I have a beautiful family and a life rooted in safety, opportunity, and choice. Citizenship isn’t quick. It isn’t simple. It isn’t guaranteed. It’s years of paperwork, waiting, fear, hope, setbacks, and perse...