I'm in a small small town named Grosselec Poland in the year 1920. I am in the town square, people are bustling about. There are many shops selling food, clothes and a few selling jewelry. I look over to see a woman walking with her three daughter to the grocery store. I follow them inside to hear the owner say, “Hello Jetti how are Rachella, Sylvia and Esther? Any word from Jacob?” This is my great great grandma, my Mom's, Dad's, Mom's, Mom, Jetti Teidor. She responds, “They are doing fine, now word though, I am starting to think that it is time for us to move to America.” After they leave I follow them home. Jetti opens the door, walks to the small kitchen and starts to make dinner. The next day the four of them pack their stuff and
My family and I in 2008 moved from Trinidad and Tobago to America. We were all so excited to move to a new country. We heard about all the fun experiences and great opportunities that America had to offer. I must admit that I had mixed emotions about moving to a new country. On one hand, I was exactly happy because I was going to have an opportunity to go college and presume my dream of being a childhood teacher or child psychologist. On the other hand, I was sad because I was leaving all my Tobago friends and family
Since the moment my oldest brothers moved to the United States my family knew we could not be apart from each other. Four years past, enough time to finally go start a new life with my brothers in the U.S. In between those four years I was born, my sisters would always talk about my unknown brother to me. Then they told me we were going to move. I was barely two years when we came to the U.S. It was February 25, 2004 when we said goodbye to my grandparents, mom and dads family. It was a long ride from Mexico City to Nogales, when we arrived in Nogales my brothers friend, Alejandro was waiting for us in a minivan. Alejandro told us that the toughest part was coming. He said we had to split up, my sisters and dad was going to walk through the
The day was finally here. It was November 11, 1990, the day that our family was to go to ¡®Land Of Liberty.¡¯ I heard so many different things about this country called United States of America and I was warned that it would be nothing you¡¯ve expected. The plane ride did not seem as long as it was; partly because I was lost in my own thoughts with hopes and anxiety. I thought about what I will become in this massive country I was headed and how soon I will adapt to this new culture and people.
Even though it hasn’t been a long time since our family has moved to America, it feels like a lifetime ago. I can barely remember the days of walking around barefoot and only having a small piece of bread to eat, while here everyone has shoes to wear and eats pasta multiple times a week. How my life has changed in such a short time. Everyone and everything moves at such fast pace here, if one blinks they can miss a lifetime. Back in Sicily, the days drug on while everyone went through the motions of their days on the farm. There are many differences between Sicily and here in America, but the first time I laid my eyes on the Statue of Liberty, I knew I was meant to be an American.
Coming to AmericaThe year was 1948, and my grandmothers aunt and uncle came for a visit from Chicago to Germany to see their family. They had no children and had come to ask my grandmother if she would be interested in coming to Chicago to possibly live there w ith them. The idea of going appealed to her very much since her home city, Saarbrcken, was still partially destroyed from the WWII bombings. She always had the wanderlust in her blood coming from both sides of her family, so thinking about the towering skyscrapers, the bustling city streets, and the glamorous movies from America was quite enticing to my grandmother. With all off these wondrous thoughts swimming through her head, she enthusiastically agreed to go.Now, it was time to prepare
"Yesenia tu tienes una chispa" said a much older white haired man. At that moment how could a snot nosed brat understand the importance of words coming out of this man's mouth? A big part of me today traces back to words my grandfather so sweetly spoke to me and to the tenderness and love he shared with me. "Yesenia you have a spark" He said it to me I was raised to believe I am unique. The first time my grandfather and I were separated was when my parents made the decision to move to the United States. When you're as young as I was, you don't really understand where you're going or why everyone is crying, or the fact that your life is about to change. Coming to the United States caused chaos in my family. Those first years were hard I wasn't used to an unstable household. Later, my parents divorced that led to hate and
Have you ever thought of what it would be like to move to another country? Well, about a month ago I had to do that exact thing and let me tell you it’s pretty difficult to adjust.
Over the past seven years my family and I have moved to many different countries and we have never stayed in one place for very long. In the year 2009 my family moved to Costa Rica, in 2010 we moved to Guatemala, then in 2011 we moved back to the US, then in 2012 we moved to England, and finally in 2015 I moved by myself back to the US. I really struggled with the moving to different countries so often, the biggest struggle I had was I never felt like I had a permanent home. It also felt like every time I finally put down roots, they just got ripped up again. On the other hand, one of my best friends, who also moved to many different countries all over the world, never struggled with it and loved the adventurous aspect of moving. For the longest
“Something that I never had in life, something that you have but are taking for granted, I won't stand for it.” Game controller in hand, I gulped hard, with sweat rolling down my head. My eyes pointed directly downward, not daring to look up as my mother gave “the talk.” My mother’s words echo in my head. Having lost her father during high school, she was denied her right to higher education. She married at a young age, moved to America, and gave birth to me. The first born, the carrier of the American Dream. We were what one would expect from an immigrant Indian family; working hard, valuing education, and hoping for a better tomorrow. As my parents worked hard to sustain our family, I strived to excel in school, motivated by their hardship.
Growing up in Puerto Rico, my biological father was in and out of jail for failing to obey the court rules. As a result, my mother became my mom and dad. Although I had to experience that, I was a straight A student all throughout elementary school.
The first time I’ve met my parents was when I was five. When they approached me at the airport, I did not know who they were. When I found out that they were my parents, I did not know how to react — I was excited, but also scared. Standing in front of me were two people whom I listened to the voices of for the past five years and spoke casually with on the phone, but meeting them in person was a whole different story.
Looking back on it now, my parents did a lot to get us here in the United States we immigrated from Montego Bay Jamaica to Jacksonville Fl. When I was about six years old. It was my mother, father, my two older sisters and I who all came together it was a long process but well worth the wait, there is a lot of paper works, shots and pictures that had to be taken just to leave my homeland, man it was so tiring watching my parents fill out paper after paper about each one of us individually.
As I got on the plane I knew my life was changed. The moment when I entered the US it was a new beginning for me. As most migrants would say; this is the land of opportunities, it was totally what I expected.
Moving to America, was a difficult transition for me. I had come to the realization that I wasn’t going to see my friends any time soon back in Iran and that was hard to overcome at a young age. I was alone as a child because my siblings are a lot older than me, and my parents’ had the challenge of starting over because they had left everything behind in Iran. However, that wasn’t going to get in the way of me succeeding in school. I have always been a fast learner, by the age of eight I had already learned four languages. Also, I was voted most improved by my classmate every year I was in Elementary School. This might not seem like a big achievement, but as a young student in a new country it was a huge motivation boost for me to improve every
On July 11th, 20011, my life was forever changed. In that day, I moved from Congo to the United Sates. It was excitement and fear at the same time, because my life was no longer the same. When I arrived in Atlanta, I realized how much efforts and sacrifices I had to make to adapt the American culture.