Reflective Essay: Growing Up In Memory

As I have been reading memoirs about memory for this class, each essay made me recall or even examine my past memory closely. However, the more minutely I tried to recall what happened in the past, the more confused I got because I could not see the clear image and believe I get lost in my own memory, which I thought, I have preserved perfectly in my brain. The loss of the details in each memory has made me a little bit sentimental, feeling like losing something important in my life. But, upon reading those essays, I came to realize that remembering correct the past is not as important as growing up within memory. However, the feelings that were acquired from the past experience tend to linger distinctly. The essay that is related to my experience

It is my memory of first year in the United States. Back then, I was a between 16 and 17 years old girl who would be called, ‘fob,’ which means ‘fresh off the boat.’ I was quite shy, not fluent in English, exotic looking and nervous but excited at the same time. Coming to the U.S. all by myself, leaving behind familiar culture, friends and family was quite challenging at such a young age, but I was all ready to endure hardship and obstacles of language barrier, cultural difference and loneliness. However, the trouble that pushed me into the well of suffering that I could not see the bottom came from the most unexpected source. It was my host family; they were white with a middle-class background, living in a rural area. They seemed like nice and friendly people at first. They brought me and my roommate to various events and places where I can learn American culture, helped me learn English, taught us the basic manner accepted in the U.S. and even celebrated my birthday. Nevertheless, they had a contradicting side as well. The family had eccentrically strict house rules which gave us heavy house chore, and eventually it led them to treat my roommate and me like housekeepers in the