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Immigration To The US: A Short Story

Decent Essays
Tick-tock, another second goes by, can’t breathe. Looking at the bottom of the pool while swimming, picturing her face as her life slips away. She strips the gas to her mouth, closes her eyes, and I know that I’ve lost her forever. Blacking out, body paralyzed and nearly collapsing. She has taken her life and abandoned me in this world with meaningless dreams of a tomorrow that doesn’t matter. Four more laps to go, I won’t stop to grasp for air. Taking another stroke and pushing forward.
At age sixteen, I lost my mom. To begin, my story starts before her death. I immigrated to the U.S. when I was fourteen years old and left behind all of my childhood memories, friends, family, and most especially, my mom. In front of me, I faced a new language,
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However, over telephone conversations, I could feel my mom’s presence, giving me advice and letting me know soon we will be reunited. As long as I felt her encouragement, I didn’t feel any anxiety or sadness. The day she took her life, by inhaling gas, everything changed. Knowing that I would not have another chance to see her face or hear her voice wounded me. For weeks, I felt numb. I was deaf to my surroundings. I couldn't eat and didn’t have the will to open my eyes. Nothing made me happy. The thought of bringing her here had driven me forward and motivated me, and now she would never witness my success.
I learned quickly the way of life: waking up early and walking to school in the dark for morning Water Polo practices. After a long day of challenging classes, I went back to the pool, exhausted, but pushed myself until I came home at seven each night. Dad wouldn’t be home for hours and there was no food ready for either of us. Studying on an empty stomach with no time to cook made it difficult to concentrate and stay on top of school work. Unfortunately, having a meal and getting adequate rest for both my brain and body was never a
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