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A journey to America narrative essay
Narrative essay on migration
A journey to America narrative essay
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“Where are you from?” is hard question for me to answer. I’m originally from Connecticut, but I currently live in New Jersey, and in between there are a number of places I’ve lived. Connecticut, Florida, New Jersey, London, Switzerland, and New Jersey again, to be exact. I am of course beyond blessed to be able to say that I’ve lived in both London, England as well as Switzerland, but it posed a lot of difficulties come high school. It’s something that made me unique among those who have lived in the same suburban area there whole life, and a lot of people didn’t understand it. Moving back to America ‘Moving back to my home country was an even bigger adjustment than leaving it. Instead of moving back to Sparta like we originally planned, we
...going to elementary school, along with my father studying and receiving a Bachelor’s Degree in Computer Science. At the age of 8, my family moved to Dallas, Texas because my father got a job there. My little brother started kindergarten, and we lived there for 2 years, and moved again to Montreal, Canada, when I was going into 5th grade. I had to take one French class because it was the second language of Quebec, a state in Canada where Montreal was located in. But it was fascinating to learn a new language other than my mother language and English. I spent 2 years in Montreal, and then finally in 7th grade, I moved to Denver, Colorado. I had to move from different places and schools, which partially was a disruption to my education and partially not because I learned the different cultures that exists in just two different countries, located in the same continent.
There are many challenges that one must face as we go through life. I have faced a few myself, however, none proved more challenging than moving from my country; Jamaica, to the United States and subsequently moving to the state of Wisconsin. Deciding to leave behind family and friends is the hardest decision to make, however, there are a few things that I was not prepared for that made the transition more challenging than expected. Moving away from all that is familiar culturally, socially and economically can be even more of a daunting task than imagined. There are things that are taught to us by our parents and others that are more dictated by our environment than anything else, so when I immigrated to the United States I had three major challenges to overcome.
...d to United States, I was grateful that I made the decision to move. When my family visited, I was able to cherish every moment with them because I knew how difficult life without them. I was grateful to have my family. Their endless support and advice, helped me to improved myself. Lived independently in United states, I grew as a better person, I learned how to planned a better time management and to be responsible on my priority.
As a child, I moved around most of my childhood. From the violent city of Compton, California to the upper middle class of Los Angeles, California, Then later to Elk City, Oklahoma.
In conclusion, leaving my country was the hardest decision I have ever made in my life. I know it’s easy to imagine yourself with different things and in different places, but when it comes to reality; it’s very hard, especially, when you decide to move to another country, and try to adjust yourself to everything new. I am very grateful for everything we have today, America is
the process of moving to a new country and starting over was not an easy one, but it was very much worth it. Being in America has given me so many new opportunities. Looking at my life now, the fact the I am able to go to college, drive a car, and be independent is a blessing. Many people that are my age don’t get those opportunities in Cameroon. The rights that I have here in America as a woman, are not the same rights that I would’ve had if I were still in Cameroon. Through the process, I learned not to be afraid of new beginnings. New beginnings bring with them new opportunities, friendships, experiences, and
Growing up as an only child I made out pretty well. You almost can’t help but be spoiled by your parents in some way. And I must admit that I enjoyed it; my own room, T.V., computer, stereo, all the material possessions that I had. But there was one event in my life that would change the way that I looked at these things and realized that you can’t take these things for granted and that’s not what life is about.
I was born and raised in california. You know, i was thinking of calling this ‘ the chronicles of tania’ but it sounds too cheesy. Anyway, this is my life. Just a reckless girl somewhat considered ‘ different ‘.
I moved to Fresno, California and worked as caregiver sometime in the summer 2012. I lived there for about 7 months then I moved to New York in December 2012. My friend Alvin Almonte invited me to work in New York because he said job opportunities were much better here and that New York is much more accessible. I lost my immigration status in November 2011, while I was in Arizona. In my contract, I was assured that after three years (supposedly 2009-2012), the employer would apply for my Green Card. This was clearly not the case. I was working as a temporary hotel worker with an uncertain status. I started to work as buzzer in a restaurant in New York. Currently, I am working as caregiver for the elderly.
The crack was deafening, and the kickback in my arms was like a flailing fish, just pulled from the sea. My bullet whizzed and I heard a sound of metal being hit by a bullet. I opened my eyes and saw a cloud of dust rising so far away from my target, I couldn’t believe it. The sound of a target being hit was from a more experienced shooter, hitting her target three rings from a bullseye. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Jordan holding his gun, frozen like he had just seen a ghost.
The woman I’m married to is sitting in the office reading. I can see her face glowing from the light of our new tablet. The familiar face I’ve known for the better part of my life. I watch her blink those big, green eyes, then swipe left to turn the page. As she does so, I see the screen flicker on her face. It illuminates her long, luscious blonde hair and protruding cheekbones. She has her toned, tan legs extended onto the brown, suede chaise lounge we bought just last week. She notices me watching from the hallway. She smiles, then goes right back to reading. Should I tell her? I can’t, for the life of me, decide. Part of me feels like she has the right to know, while part wants everything to stay how it is- perfect.
The tears hit my face like a midday Georgia thunderstorm–little sprinkles, then, BAM! The floodgates of heaven opened. I’d made up my mind. I was fed up with the bullies, my eating disorder, living, breathing, being. I was going to take my life that night.
I set myself a goal in life when I was five years old, and it has stuck with me ever since – I want to make a difference in this world. Whether it be personally saving someone’s life or creating something that will save lives indirectly, I want to be remembered in other’s people’s lives after mine is over.
One time, I loved another person. He was, in my eyes, the most beautiful human. I loved him for the way he looked into my eyes and touched my hands and the gentle articulations of his voice. The way he would play the violin with such skill and grace. He was never harsh or angry. I wanted to be with him in the simplest ways. I wanted to be with him at his worst just to help him up again. I wanted to be the last one to say goodnight. I just wanted to be next to him.
Even before arriving to the United States, the fear I felt was not having the familiarity of home (St. Lucia). Moving to the U.S meant that I had to start my life all over again. This time it would be without the unwavering support of my family and friends. Whether I succeeded or failed in school was entirely up to me. It wa...