Coming here was one of the greatest blessings of my life — a turning point that gave me hope, healing, and a future I never thought possible.

But let me be honest: it was also the hardest chapter I’ve ever lived through.

The chance to receive the medical care I desperately needed, to survive, and eventually return home — who wouldn’t say yes to that? Yet behind that opportunity was a mountain of struggle, fear, and sacrifice.

America — oh, great America. As a child, it felt like a mythical land. I was around ten years old, sitting in the dining room of the orphanage with the other boys when I first heard the word “America.” It sounded like a distant planet — a place where dreams came true and superheroes walked the streets.

“Did you hear?” one boy whispered. “A little girl went to America.” I leaned in, curious. The room buzzed with excitement. We imagined what it must be like — a land filled with Spiderman, Wonder Woman, Aquaman, and Superman. No one had ever seen it, but we believed in it like it was magic.

That night, I couldn’t wait to talk to Manuel — my best friend. He had a medical condition too. One of his legs was shorter than the other, and he walked with a heavy limp. People made fun of him, but to me, he was a hero. Just like the ones we dreamed about.

This story is a piece of my heart. If you’ve ever felt like an outsider, longed for healing, or believed in something bigger than yourself — I hope my journey speaks to you.