My mother, 71, did have a child-like quality to her as she held her chuleta to her chest on top of a manila envelope, waiting in line for early voting.
I was afraid it would feel like erasure: you are no longer Nigerian, Pakistani, Ecuadorian, Laotian, Canadian, Venezuelan. But it felt like a welcoming, you are who you are.
Toward the end of the ceremony the judge called out the countries represented by the people eager to become Americans. It felt like a welcoming.
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