Walking in a sea of people towards the ballroom, I felt the weight of a long-sought goal coming to fruition. My brain spun on the fact that nine months later, I would be able to vote. It was February of 2012. I had lived in this country since 1979 when I came from Colombia as a seven-year-old girl. In my 40th year I was finally becoming a US citizen, and in that moment as a mother, as a mental health professional, and as a parenting educator, I understood that I was finally going to be given the right, the privilege, and the responsibility of voting. I have never taken for granted the gift I was given.
