Shortly after high school, there’s an American TV show I used to watch back then in Nigeria, a family comedy and drama set in suburban America. The seemingly quiet, mundane lives of the characters captivated me: the petty dramas, the middle class life, the family life, children in minivans…

I would years later tell my little sister how I dream of living a suburban life. This dream was my psychological escape from the chaos that New York City represented in my life then. The noise. The sirens. The trains. The parking spots. 🙄

Today, a few years after declaring the suburbs as the destination of the American Dream, I live in one of the suburbs of Nashville. A beautiful, serene place, awesome for raising children. My son just started school, an Islamic school. When I move around, there’s a palpable calmness permeating the suburb. Driving the other day, for the first time, I felt at home. America became home. Alhamdulillah.

Dreams do come true in bits, until you wake up one day and realize you’re living that huge dream you had years back. I can look at my life right now and worry about how at my age I’m not wealthy or among Forbes under something. Or I can look at it and bask in the peacefulness of suburban life. I chose the latter. Alhamdulillah.

When we dream, we can’t keep sleeping. We have to wake up and exert actions so that we may get to that beautiful place in our reveries. Then we pray.

Of dreams coming true.
Of life and times.
Of Alhamdulillah.