Personal Narrative Essay: The Land Of The Free

I thought all of my problems could be solved in America, “The land of the free.” The whole journey from Syria got my insides spilling out with thoughts of a whole new great life. The boat wasn’t even the thing that brought me closer to my new fate. It was my hope, the fragile string holding me tight. I knew that the new world would be hard living with a Syrian name, Adnan Hadad, and an Arabic language. Though, I was hopefully taking a permanent vacation from the famine and war in Syria, I still didn’t imagine what I would really face when I got to America.

But, that was in the past. I’ve been in school for a week now, facing challenges, that come with being a refugee. It’s hard to look back and see myself standing on a boat towards a new life. I was hopeful, but this unwelcoming school has helped to tear

The night before, I didn’t practice my English so I knew what to say. By now, I knew most of the words, so I would just let my heart guide me. Besides, my cramped old house, which is actually just a junky garage in an abandoned alley, is too small to let out my feelings. Once I got to school after a cold walk in the snow, I placed myself by her locker and waited. Fourteen minutes had gone by, and still no sign of Lily. I only had a minute to get to class now, so I hurriedly collected myself and ran to my locker. I was disappointed, knowing that without Lily here, it would be the hardest day of school. I opened my locker and to my surprise a note fell to the floor. I quickly picked it up and gazed at the neat handwriting that clearly spelled my name.

Dear Adnan,

I could not bear to tell you face to face yesterday so I am writing you this note. We are moving. I will never see you again. Never forget me, and I will never forget you. Just remember, “ To be called a refugee is the opposite of an insult: it is a badge of strength, courage, and victory.” - (Tennessee Office for Refugees).

Love, Lily