I have very few photos from my life before I arrived in America. At some point, I had a picture of my sisters and me when they visited Honduras after my first child was born. But when I started working in America, someone robbed me and took my pocketbook where I had the photo. That loss didn’t keep me from having a good life here though.
As a young girl growing up in Honduras, all my friends had boyfriends. Lots of men were in love with me, but I told them, “Leave me alone. I’m studying and playing basketball and playing in the band.” Eventually, I married a man I liked, but didn’t love.
When I was 13, I dreamed I would marry an African man: tall, handsome, with a strong nose, who wore clothes of gold, champagne, and orange, with a black hat. This dream would come true after all, but not until 30 years later.
My American story really begins with my dad, who put in the papers for all of us. Although he was my stepfather, I called him “dad” because he raised me. He worked hard for us; no one could tell him we were not his “real” children. I am who I am because of him, and I promised to take his last name, Davis. My mother and younger sisters moved to America first. They left when I was 18 years old, while I stayed in Honduras with my aunt. Five years later, at age 24, I joined them with my husband, Leonard. Together, we had three children.
In our family, every first daughter is named Elizabeth. I’m Mery Elizabeth. My youngest is named Elizabeth Sabrina. I was pregnant with her when I became a U.S. citizen in 2001. Today, she studies forensic science at Howard University, with aspirations to become a doctor.
My middle son, Robert Lee, lives in Florida, and is studying to become a car engineer. That has always been his dream. I tell my kids, “You have to be somebody in life.” He will fulfill his dream. His son (my grandson) is Robert III—and the third generation of Davis.
Edward, my eldest, was born and raised in Honduras. He lives in Boston, while I live in Chelsea, Massachusetts. I had to fight to bring my son to America. He joined the Job Corp., which trains young people in vocational programs and received a degree in medical records. He now works in construction, painting, fixing apartments, and mechanics.
My ex husband went back to Honduras, and I was happy as a single mom. But my kids always told me, “You need a partner, because we’re going to marry one day so you have to find a boyfriend.” Robert was the one who put me on Facebook, where someone messaged me: “I saw your profile and I liked your smile.” Even though my mom always warned me, “Don’t talk to strangers,” I formed a friendship with a man from Nigeria, who was studying in Malaysia at the time. We eventually started talking on the phone.
After 5 years of getting to know each other, we married in 2019. I wore a dress of gold/champagne because in his culture, the groom and bride wear the same colors. When I put on my wedding dress, I felt like my dream had come to life. My husband was never married before. His father’s advice was to “take care of yourself, get an education, and then find your woman.” His mother died when he was a young boy, but his father was 114 before he passed! He was king of his village in Delta State, Nigeria, so my husband is the African “prince” of my dreams.
It’s been four years since we married, and he will finally soon be able to travel to the U.S. to be with me. As a U.S. citizen, I am able to petition for him and he will eventually be able to become an American citizen, like me. I could have reunited with my husband sooner, if not for the president in office when we married. At last though, we’ll be together after so many years of waiting.
