I look at her and I know she’s me and not me — a wonderful combination of sugar, spice and everything nice carefully mixed in one teacup of splendor and magic that is meant only for those who dare to believe and let live.
I look at her and I often find myself speaking in tongues, as if blessed by the Holy Spirit, in total awe of the gift of life and love handed to a mortal being in the form of a package to be opened after nine months of weight gain and unending cravings for anything that the gastric juice can and cannot digest.
I look at her and I see me: carefree, independent, happy. I look at her and I see another person: sweet, kind, pretty.
Her life is a story of how the maiden from the East wholeheartedly embraced the soldier from the West, and how those two worlds defied odds to create a New World with sweet touches from the Pearl of the Orient Seas and the fighting spirit of the Star-Spangled Banner.
She is Filipino. She is American.
Her name is Antoinette Elena.
