Twenty-fifth Anniversary

Yesterday marked the 25th anniversary of rebuilding my life in America. It's been one quarter of a century since I lived in the U.S. coming as a refugee. Looking back, I was amazed at what I had done. Thanks to my mother who sent me to an English language school in Vietnam during the 60s, though I didn't graduate, I had a foundation to build on in order to pursue my writer's dream in my adopted country whereas such dream of mine would never be fulfilled in my homeland. Coming alone as an older adult in my thirties and without a high school diploma and having lived in a cultural desert--Communist Vietnam before opening its door in the late 80s--for ten years, I was enrolled in Kishwaukee Junior College three months after my arrival in DeKalb, IL, and at the same time working on my GED. In seven years, I earned my MFA in English and playwriting.

So far I'm most proud of myself for having transformed myself from a high-school dropout to an MFA holder. And I did it in my third language.