Liberty Bell

A letter to America. America, who are you? Thousands of people hear about you, talk about your glories and envy you; many don’t understand your values, and you are too busy to turn back and explain. She’s enormous and different. Very courteous and prudent. She gives strength to people who surround her, taking away all their energy at the same time. Her standards are so high. She lives and smiles, and works, works, works. …

I have been thinking about the USA for years now. And one day a miracle happened — I came here as a Russian exchange student. Even though it’s been six months since I arrived, I still don’t believe that I’m breathing this air, seeing these skies of blue and talking to people around me. New York was basking with its autumn leaves, Las Vegas sparkled and Hollywood remained a mystery. Busy people, looking at their watches, were hurrying to get from point A to point B. And there was no person who did not cry on September 11. …

Let me tell you, America, you were not the only one. I was crying and biting nails with every other man and woman in this country, watching dreams, rocks and dust falling down to the ground from the gray sky. It hurt me as all that was falling down, not somewhere on the street, but in my head and my heart. Even though I’m Russian and I lived all my life in Russia, I couldn’t help but think about you, America. Your heartbeat didn’t stop. Even after that heart attack your people were hurrying from point A to point B again. Life was going on and on.

When I stepped off the plane about 200 days ago, Elton John’s song was playing in my head. It was the last thing I expected to happen. “Philadelphia Freedom shine on me. …” I walked funny after an eight-hour flight, my bag was too heavy, my mind refused to think after two sleepless nights, but this song didn’t leave me alone. “…I love you, yes I do.” I was so happy. It is the only feeling I remember from that day. Crazy joy, overwhelming tears somewhere inside my soul made me go, go faster and faster toward a dream that was in my heart for eight years — American sun, American smile, American dream … I was there. I was there, somewhere in the middle of an American busy day. My little life in America began.