I Believe in Spacesuits

When I was almost four years old, my family’s life changed forever when my dad announced to us that
he’d gotten a new job over seven thousand miles away in a far-away place called America. Although I
was really young and can’t recall all the details, I remember everyone being really excited for us; after
all, America was “the land of opportunity” they said, “a place where he could take his career to the next
level”. Of course, none of this meant anything to me; all I cared about was that we were moving to a
new house, where I could get new toys and play with new friends.

My excitement dropped significantly when I found that my mom and I wouldn’t be following him- at
least not at first. “He needs to get settled” they told me patiently when I asked why we couldn’t leave
immediately. “It’s nighttime in America right now”, they explained when I asked why I couldn’t call him
after school on my birthday. Although it was difficult at first, the pressures of pre-K soon caught up with
me, and I became used to this new normal.

Then, just like that, the day came. Six months had passed by like a blur, and it was finally time for my
mom and I to join my dad across the Atlantic.

“It’s December: it’ll be cold”, my aunts said, as they packed hand-knit sweaters and scarves into my
suitcase. “It’s a long flight, you need to eat”, my grandmother told me, as she cooked me my favorite
meal.

As I was about to head out the door, I remember my uncle holding me back, pulling out a bright orange
parka, and wrapping it around my tiny frame. Even though I probably looked like Randy from A
Christmas Story, overdressed, and wearing clothes too big for me, my uncle knelt down to my level,
looked at me seriously, and said “This is your spacesuit. It’ll keep you safe when you’re flying.” In this
moment, with my entire extended family lined up in my grandparents’ small living room, all looking at
my mother and I before we headed to the car, I learned what true love means to me. It’s not buying
toys, or writing letters in school, or giving hugs and kisses- those are all acts of expression. Rather, it’s
the force that drives you to disrupt your day-to-day life to get one last look at a loved one; it’s the
impulse that lets you overcome your arthritis to knit them warm clothes; it’s what causes you to uproot
your entire family so that your kids can have a better life in a far-off land; love is a choice.

And so, bundled up head to toe as if I were about to embark on an artic expedition, with the warmth of
my relative’s affection coursing through the woven fibers on my back, I stepped out into the cool New
Delhi night, knowing that my spacesuit would keep me safe.