Our grief stretches across land and sea, with invisible barriers keeping us in while keeping us out.
I’m still trying to span out what home means to me. At its core, it has to be the place where you feel safe, and that is not limited to a location, like a neighborhood or a town. For me, home has become a feeling.
It just felt like home, and it was home.
While the Dominican Republic is my homeland, home, for me, is the United States. I know a lot of us feel like we don’t belong here or there, but regardless of what people say, this is home. 
For so many years in the U.S., my name had been mispronounced. Yet here, a stranger got it right on the first try, and she assured me that this country was as much mine as it was hers. I felt like I was finally home.

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