April 10
There are 100 questions and answers spinning around in my head, bouncing against the walls of my being, randomly highlighting some question at 4 in the morning, governor of my state? Kathy as Acker, Hochul as ocho-ul.. at five, the law of the land? The constitution, at 6 I'm already drinking mate, I'm dressed in blue and red, democrats and republicans, majority parties... name five of the original colonies, ny, pennsylvania, rhode island, virginia, massachusetts...massachusetts was it? I better say New Jersey is safer. 26 years resident, soon half of my life. Today I will swear with my right hand raised to defend this country and abandon, abandon? loyalty to any other. I leave the house, I am in my body and not, I take the subway to Federal Plaza, Laura gives me a hug at the entrance and puts a lapis lazuli stone in my hand. I go in, she waits for me at the café on the corner and that makes everything better. I'm in a room full of people. All immigrants, even those who will interrogate us. I see them stand in the middle of the room and call each person by number. Let it be her, the one with the fuchsia tights...and not him, or him, the others less so. An hour passes, I feel like I did when I was 15 and going to get penicillin shots for mononucleosis. P-102 says a muscular man and I stand up. I am here and I am not. We walk down a narrow hallway and he is already questioning me. I am here but I am not. Someone in me is answering, I'm doing well. A neutral language. Wow, you studied! He says. So I relax, married? Well ehh yes-no…mmm, divorce? Separated. Then it's married, he says. Well, I have the separation agreement. Married, he repeats with a hint of annoyance. Whatever you say, I think to myself. “You passed,” he finally tells me. He takes (escorts) me to another room where several of us are waiting to swear. I take a seat and write to L. that to my surprise manages to get in even with all the security at the entrance and ventures through the building towards me. We, the immigrants, the recent citizens stand up and with our hands raised. We all babble, repeating what they tell us to say. Then they give us envelopes with the confirmation of our citizenship...Welcome, signed by today's president. Before leaving, we, the newly sworn, have our portraits made. I send it to Mary, I appear in front of a piece of flag. What country did you join? That's not the flag. I think you are in Puerto Rico.
Cecilia Biagini
2024
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