“Child, what would you feel if we moved to another country?”

The idea of moving to another country was scary. I had lived in the Philippines for 13 years, and this move was the biggest decision my family was about to make. For two years, I struggled to come to terms with the fact that I was about to take a huge step forward in my life.

Aug. 22, 2024—it happened. I was 13 then, clueless about what awaited me in a new country where I only had my family. I was halfway through my first year as a teenager, and a major event was about to change my life. The realization hit as soon as I breathed the air I never thought I’d breathe. Hugging my dad in that moment felt different—because I knew that no one would leave after that hug. We were finally complete.

The air felt different, too. The car window was down, the sun was rising, and there weren’t many cars on the road. I couldn’t fully take in the moment because I was overwhelmed with the joy of finally being with my dad. But soon, I realized there was more to this than just a reunion—something deeper was unfolding.

My first home in the U.S. was a small townhouse in Lorton, Virginia—a place that wasn’t even ours. Living there felt like prison. It was surrounded by trees and quiet houses—nothing else. The roads were boring: just cars and trees. Not even a single hangout spot or a McDonald’s where you could eat with friends.

I enrolled at South County Middle School, the first American school I had ever attended. It exceeded my expectations in many ways—except that I had to walk home because it was nearby. My dad, who drives, had to work, so no one could pick me up. I walked through the rain or under the blazing sun, often alone.

I may not have enjoyed those walks home, but eventually, I started to like school and made friends. I often got lost and had to ask teachers or go to student services to find my next class. But because I made friends, I had emotional support and guidance. I began to enjoy school and even came to like the American curriculum, even though it was very different from what I was used to in the Philippines.

Lunchtime was a challenge at first—I had to sit alone. But then I met a Filipino girl who invited me to sit with her. From that moment on, everything started falling into place.

Since we were renting, my parents began considering moving somewhere more cost-effective. Our house was 30 minutes from their work and far from most stores, so it wasn’t convenient. Still, I was happy at school and finally starting to feel at home, so I didn’t mind staying. I wanted to finish middle school where we were—but that didn’t happen.

During the second semester, my family decided to move closer to their jobs. Now, our house is only five to eight minutes from their workplace and near many stores. But I had to adjust again—new house, new school, new friends. Just thinking about it made me feel tired and scared. Moving to another country was already a huge step, and now I had to move again.

My new school is Mark Twain Middle School. It’s smaller than my old one, but it has more students—and they’re more energetic. I thought I wouldn’t make any friends, or that I’d be sitting alone at lunch again. But no—at least five people invited me to sit with them, and some even walked with me to every class. I didn’t struggle much because I quickly made friends and learned to have fun with them.

Now, everything feels more like home than a foreign country. I know other Filipinos, I’ve made friends from different backgrounds, and I’ve stepped out of my comfort zone. I’ve unexpectedly grown in unexpected soil.

I found a home in a foreign land.