Essay about Coming to America

This situation affected me a lot emotionally. Leaving my family did hurt, but waiting until it was time to see them again hurt even more. I missed all the memories, especially the little ones. Not seeing them or getting to talk to them every day broke my heart. I missed my family more than ever.

Getting on our plane was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to, especially since my dad couldn’t come with us that day. December 8, 2010 was the day my family decided that moving to America would give me and my brother many more opportunities, keep in mind my parents hadn’t told us that we were moving to the US. I remember I had been hugging my dad saying goodbye to him and my mom had to come and grab me away from him. His face was through the window was the last thing I remember seeing before buckling my seat belt and laying down on my mother’s shoulder. Once we had landed my mother woke me up and said to me that I should help out with the luggage and the other belongings we had to take. The night went by probably faster than

Transitions are never an easy thing to conquer. It is often hard and stressful to cope with changes to one’s surrounding, but in the cases in which one manages to conquer this obstacle, elevation of knowledge and experience are great results gained from this achievement. I originally came from Africa and recently moved to the United States to join my mother and my step father. This great change in the things I had become accustomed to in my daily life was not easy, furthermore taking into account the fact that I had never experienced a transition so little as shifting from one residence to another.

The difference between my sister and I were our age, but that was not a big deal, we were really close. When mom and dad were at work, she had responsibility as the eldest sister to take care of me and my brother. We were always watching my 3 years old brother’s favorite movie, Tarzan. It was nice spending time together with my brother and sister. Days later, I heard my parent’s conversation about going to America. My mind was in shock and I was scared. My mother told me that we were moving because, “America is a country of a new beginnings; better education and job opportunities”. I came to America when I was eleven years old from Mexico. Leaving behind family, friends, traditions, culture and our country was a hard decision for everyone to make. I remember saying good-bye to my family and friends; it was one of the hardest situations from the process of a new beginning. I had a question, Will I see them again? It was a question with no answer. I did not know when I would see my family and friends again, but there was hope inside me. What really affected me the most was saying good-bye to my sister Miriam. She did not like the idea of coming to the United States, because she had a life in Rio Bravo, I think everyone did, but I had no choice.

Walking out of the airport with my mother, I felt confused and lost. The people looked unfamiliar and they seemed to be talking gibberish. At that moment, I felt alienated and helpless.

That end of the week we flew out and traveled east to Chicago, a new place which I never knew about. I had the butterflies in my stomach and didn't realize what's in store once we achieved our goal. When we at long last touched base at the packed air terminal in Chicago, we were grasped with warm invites by my relatives whom I considered as outsiders. It was my first time really observing

On January, 20, 2003, was the day In which I left my country and family and said hello to my new life In the United States Of America. I was 6 years old, living in Colombia, Medellin. Hours before my mother and I left, my family made a small farewell reunion. The meeting was set in my aunt's living room, which was small with orange walls and was decorated with my mother's paintings. The room was full of emotion, people crying, laughing, sharing shared memories. One by one, people stop in front of me telling me how much they will miss me and how lucky I was to get the opportunity to live in the Unites States Of America.

I hope America really is what they say it is. I had no clue the passage would be like this. I woke up from my cabin that morning and all I saw was a dreadful Zacharias, Brunon, my younger brother, and my old Grandmother. My mother was nowhere to be found. I walked to the deck and looked for my mother and saw her throwing up over the railing. The doctors said it was just a sea sick and she would be fine by time we made it next week. All I could do was hope.

It was a dark and stormy night- except it wasn’t. It was actually a crisp, clear January morning. January 14, 2011 to be exact. It was the first time I had ever been outside the United States, and I was on a 13 hour nonstop flight to Israel. Even though I had been in an airplane before, this was a totally different experience. We were not allowed to get up, unless we were on the way to the bathroom, we were served dinner which was… interesting to say the least and thankfully, I didn’t get food poisoning (until the flight back to the U.S.). We also had in-flight TV, which was awesome because it had a plethora of new movies that I had never seen before! After the long flight I was extremely happy to be able to walk around, however we didn’t do

When we finally locked eyes, we both had smiles from ear to ear. I felt like I was on the plane again as his arms swooped me into the air. After a few seconds of flying I finally returned to the ground, happy as can be. When we walked out of the airport, I stood still and admired the colorful sign above my head that read or said Air Jamaica. I admired the even bigger sign that read or said JFK. There were strange yellow cars everywhere. There was a strange odor in the air. It was a whole new world for me. I was like a baby taken out into the real world for the first time, looking and admiring everything that I saw. The big city buildings fascinated me, the cars, the people, everything was so intriguing. Time went by and I soon experienced my first Halloween, my first day of elementary school, my first Christmas gift, seeing snow for the first time and many more firsts that will stick with me forever. Being able to live in America is truly a blessing to me. I am living the life with the opportunities so many other kids in my hometown would be so thankful for. I am proud to call America my home. When I first arrived here I was the little girl with the cute Jamaican accent, but after attending twelve years of school in the New York Education system I feel no different from my fellow

“Last call, Dimaranan family,” I heard over the airport intercom as there we were, in line for burgers and completely unaware our flight would soon leave. As you can imagine, being on the opposite side of the airport to where the gate was, we all made a mad dash lugging our suitcases behind us. My brother, who was 6 years old at the time, even got left behind crying and trying to catch up to my frantic parents.This was the flight that we were taking to move to Houston and there was no way we could miss it. Eventually, we made it to our seats in the nick of time as my mom and dad breathed a sigh of relief. When I look back on this trip, I realize how important it is to remember where you came from and the journey you took to get there. I remember

So when I found out I was going to be traveling to America alone, I was terrified. My airplane landed in New york and I remember standing there, with very little English, afraid. Then I saw my husband and his friend and I ran up to him and cried and cried and cried. I was so overwhelmed. It was the first time I had breathed in a while, but I soon learned that I will only ever be allowed to breathe a few gulps of air every year. As I looked around New York in 1995, I was surprised by how it was so dirty. There was trash everywhere, it smelled horrible, and there were so many people around. I remember how even though there was a lot of people around me, I felt so alone. Everyone in America reminded me of robots. No one smiled, laughed, or looked like they enjoyed life. It was futuristic, but it was lacking something. It was confusing. My husband hates the cold, so we within the same month moved to the Los Angeles

Almost four years ago, my church provided me with the amazing chance to fly to Oaxaca City, Mexico to assist a local missionary with taking care of the community. During our trip, we participated in activities with missionaries such as fence building, a Jesus film, spreading out tracks, Vacation Bible School, and visiting the Zapotec Ruins on Monte Albán. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the day arrived for our departure to Mexico. My dad, my sister and myself along with the other members of our team boarded a small little plane bound for Oaxaca City, Mexico. Prior to my first ever takeoff, I sat excited and a nervous wreck by the window of the plane. Once we started taxiing down the runway, I calmed myself down.

During the long and what it felt like never ending car ride I looked at all of the beautiful sites outside. While hooked into the sights, someone called my name. It was my dad woke me up to tell me we finally made it to the airport.

The day came to where I had to go to the airport to go back to New York. It was an awful feeling saying goodbye to my dad. As I passed through security I couldn’t stop