I Was Born On A Rainy Day

It had finally arrived. Moving day. I was finally leaving my home in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania after five short years and a sort of gloom lingered in the air. Although many teenagers would be excited to reunite with their family, friends, and childhood home, I, however, was frightened of the future. I woke up that morning and just laid there and listened to the sound of the rain pittering against the roof and windows, pattering against the surrounding forest in which I shared many memories. After what felt like centuries of just listening and reflecting, I got up and looked out the window. I looked at my neighbor's house across the field of grass which separated our houses and at the kids who had become like my siblings. I looked at the ice

Knock! Knock! Knock! Knock! There was a knock the door late at night. There was a letter, it was from the manager at the sunny slope apartments. The next morning we opened the letter. It said we were getting evicted. We didn’t know why. But we knew what it meant, we had to move! We were so worried, because we didn’t know where we could move or even worst of all we didn’t know if we were going to have to move a different school. I had been at that school my whole life, and known all of my friends there.

I walked silently, my converse crunching on the wet sidewalk. I zipped up my jacket and took a sip of my coffee. I slowly walked towards my school when someone's shoulder slammed in to me. My coffee flew out of my hands, the lid came of as it hit the ground, spilling all over the sidewalk. I stumbled as I tried to regain my balance. I hate this small town I thought to myself. When I returned home I arrived to both of my parents sitting at the table. I looked at them with a confused look, “Ava why don't you take a seat,” Father said “we have something to tell you.” I took a seat not saying a word just giving them a confused look. “Ava honey your father got a promotion,” Mother stated “and we are going to be moving to California!” Fireworks were going off in my head thinking of all of the new things I would get to experience.

It was April of 1999. My family was at home. Children were running outside. The asphalt was burning. Cars rolled up to the entrance of the apartments and BANG. I grew up in Stockton, California. Surprisingly, as a minority, I wasn’t really a minority. There were, in fact, a large and diverse population of Asian-Americans. But, Stockton is not the ideal place to live. It was hot and dry, almost to the point of a drought. Stockton was also ranked as the one of the top 5 most dangerous cities in California. So, having a nice and safe family is kind of difficult. Eventually, my family decided to move to Crescent City, California when my dad retired. It was a world of difference. There were trees, plentiful water, and a nice cool temperature. This

April 13, 2010 was the day that my life had completely changed. My dad came home from a long day at work and had some excited news, at least that’s what he said. I remember when my dad walked into the house and told my mom the news first, I will never forget the look on her face. My siblings and I knew the news could not possibly be good by my mom 's expression. My dad told my brothers and I that we are moving to California because he had received a promotion. We had lived in Georgia for seven years of my life. I was so familiar with the land and every Sunday my family and I would go to the mall. We would eat ice cream, go shopping and later watch a movie. We lived in a gated community and they were like my second family. I was very distraught when my father had told me the “good” news. I had to leave my friends, family, and all of my memories in Georgia.

I was born in St.Catherines hospital a couple blocks away from my brown bricked house on alder street. My home was fairly simple, more on the cramped size. It was an apartment. In the streets litter everywhere, the neighbors cared less on how they presented themselves. They cared only about drinking, partying and having the time of their life. The odor of marijuana floated around the whole city. The crime rate in East Chicago is one of the highest in the nation. Drive-bys, drug dealing, and robbery was a daily activity. Yet, that never

As a child, our home was a place anyone was welcomed in, thus as the saying goes, “Mi casa es su casa.” While my parents were married, we lived in a one story blue colored house with 3 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, 3 living rooms, 1 dining room, an attic, garage, porch, pool and backyard. Upon entry into the house from the front door you stared into a long hallway. Immediately to the left was 1 of 3 living rooms, where we occasionally ate Dominos thin crust pizza in the late hours of the day and watched TV and movies as a family. We had a 7-piece oak entertainment center with a built in aquarium, where we kept Ceaser our

I've been living in the same apartments for over 10 years. My family was very accepting when it came to what I needed and how I felt. Whenever I required school supplies, clothes, or even something unimportant as toys they made sure that I always had them. They saw that I was prospering at school both in knowledge and social skills so they rewarded my achievements. I was thought to make school a priority and that they would worry about the rest. I never had any worries as a child but as I got older I understood that they made many sacrifices as a whole family of immigrants so that they could shield me from the hardships. I am very thankful in that I hold no grudges, horrible memories, burdens, or regrets from my childhood. They instilled the idea that within time and with hard work I could accomplish anything. Along with them my neighbor-hood also impacted me by introducing me to people that I now call friends and family who have shaped who I am through their experiences. From my childhood to know I have seen them grow, change, move on, or pass away in the apartments that I’ve lived in. Change is what I've grown to accept due to father time leaving some behind while some got ahead.This change was present through seeing friends lose themselves to, change of schools, drugs, alcohol, a negative mindset, and even

My daughter immediately began packing her stuff; she was going back to her Nana’s house. After packing what I felt was important and securing the backdoor as well as we could, we left and went back to my mom’s house. The next day I called the owner and told him I was moving back home. I felt defeated and taken advantage of. Not taken advantage of by the owner, but just in general, by life. I asked the two neighbors closest to me if they had notice anyone around my place the day before, but no one saw anything. The elderly man that was normally sitting outside by his fence was at the hospital with his wife all day. The male who lived directly next door stated he worked all night so he was sleeping the majority of the day. So we packed what was left of our items and just like that we were back home, back in my childhood room. We were going back to where we felt secure and protected. It was a short experience, but it showed me how looks can be deceiving and sometimes we don’t always make the right choices at the right time. I felt so vulnerable, but at the same time I felt I was meant to go through that situation so that I could appreciate what I had. It wasn’t about being an adult or being on my own, but being able to protect what I loved and cared the most about. I loved my shoes, especially my Nike Air Jordan’s to be

As a child, I grew up many places, my dad’s old job moved us around a lot. I was born in Hayward, Ca. and moved to Red Bluff as a baby and stayed until I was like 5 or 6. Then I moved to Taylor, Arizona and lived there until I was 8. I moved to The Dalles, Oregon and turned 9 shortly after, we lived at the very top of Oregon, right next to the Washington border. I could see Washington driving down certain streets, but by the time I was 10 I had been somewhat homeless. I lived in a car with my 3 other siblings and parents for a month or so. It wasn’t like it was horrible, we never slept in the car. We stopped at motels and we drove highway 101, because we were struggling and the beach solves everything.

Growing up in this city of Chicago was very nice. I lived on the Westside of Chicago, Hamlin and Augusta. Our community was not a community it was block. The block is the street that I lived one. My sisters and I was able to go to the park until the sunset. We would walk almost a mile just to have fun. We was able to walk everywhere, candy store, school, parties, and mall. All the houses on the blocks where kept up so nice. Every house had a flower bed. There were no boarded up houses. The grass was cut so well, and the brushes were trimmed nicely. You could smell the food that the neighbors were cooking. All the children on the block were able to play with each other. The neighbor would feed the other neighbors children. The trust for the people on Hamlin was very strong because everyone knew each other for years. The early 2000’s is a year that I will never forget. In 1973 my mom was born in Chicago. She lived in the same house that I lived in on Hamlin. As I was talking to my mother she was telling me that her life living in Chicago was lovely. Her dad

Not many knows this about me, where and how I grew up. I was born in San Francisco, CA, and at the age of 3, my abusive, alcoholic parents abandoned me. I don’t remember how long I was left alone in that apartment until CPS was called, but I do remember being hungry, alone, scared, and what it was liked to not be loved or wanted.

Mom lost her job, father lost a great deal of money, my brother lost his car. We couldn’t get what we wanted anymore. Father was struggling with his job as people began to panic. The first couple of years wasn’t as bad. We lost a few things but we were getting by. That was until our home was being taken away. We were kicked out and had no place to go. My father had found out about a place called Hooverville. It was a place for people who were homeless. When we went there it wasn’t exactly at all what I expected. There were tiny little shacks made out of scraps of metal and glass. We weren’t entirely fond of it but we had to make

Let us see, I could say my life was the All American dream, where mom brings lemonade to the kids, while they harass the dog in the front yard, surrounded by a white picket fence. Or it could be that my life was a fairy tale, one that seems good on the outside but on the inside seemed to me a never ending nightmare. I could go on and on about how good of a life I live, or I could say all the horrible things that have happened, but I’d rather just explain what has shaped me into the person I am today, because that is what a home environment does to a person.

Way before I ever existed, my parents met in Etzatlan Jalisco, Mexico in the month of October. A small town located near the capital of Mexico, Guadalajara. They dated for about two years before my parents decided to come to the United States. When they moved to the United States, they lived in Mount Airy, North Carolina with my current Godparents for about a month. After a month passed by my parents had moved to Virginia, where they stayed living in their own trailer throughout the pregnancy stages my mother was experiencing. Meanwhile, each day both my mother and father worked outside at a field harvesting peaches and tomatoes.