Nowhere Else

At a naturalization ceremony in Charlottesville, where 75 immigrants became American citizens, Debee Arvind Bouch, who came from India nine years ago, said there was "nowhere else I'd rather call home."

I felt a bit jealous reading that. I don't know if I'll ever feel that certain about anywhere — not even the place I was born.

I happened to be in New York during America’s 250th birthday this year - not as a citizen, just someone hoping to go to college here one day. I only caught a bit of it: the Brooklyn Bridge briefly catching fire during the celebrations, which at the time didn't seem like much. Only when I read the news did I see the shape of the night: storms forcing evacuations in Washington, rain shutting down the D.C. finale that organizers had hyped as "the largest pyrotechnics display in the history of the world.”

That same day, a small group of white nationalists marched through Washington and dispersed - a detail just paragraphs away from immigrants becoming citizens.

It makes me wonder which scene represents the country Bouch was pledging herself to. Maybe neither. Maybe a country can't be the source of certainty at all — hers isn't about the place being perfect; it's about choosing it anyway.

I’m not there yet. But I think that’s what I’m actually chasing — not just a college or a country or a place to call home, but the capacity to choose something imperfect and mean it.

Hugo Yu