My Experience In My Life

Every time I am asked about my story, I have to start gathering pieces from different places. I was born and raised in Colombia, graduated from high school in Costa Rica, and came to the United States shortly after turning eighteen. During my first years here, I could not utter more than a few words in English. Like many immigrants, I studied the language while working as home health aide, housekeeper, and even as a production worker at a chocolate factory. As I grew more confident with my communication skills, I enrolled at a community college in Florida only to realize that I did not know what I wanted to do in life.

The house that built me was a two story, standard suburban number in a low income, minority neighborhood . It wasn’t ideal, there were a few instances of hate crimes against hispanics-it could have been me-, but I had a roof over my head and there was food on the table. 14 years of my life were spent in that house, I spent my days learning from my siblings as they went down the tumultuous road of life. Being the youngest, I followed the example established by my older siblings: stay out of trouble and focus on studying. I knew I would always have their support. They taught me that coming from a low socioeconomic background was not a limitation, but rather an advantage when it came to striving for greatness. Early on I learned that life is not a walk in a patch of roses, it’s an always changing highway with sharp turns and potholes-make the right decisions and you’ll get to your destination .

My entire life has been full of three of me. My brother, my sister, and myself. I say three of me because my siblings and I are the same age. We were all born on the third of June in nineteen ninety-nine. It has always been this way – the three of us. We are the musketeers, always by each other’s side. We have been through ups and downs and everything in between. For the past eighteen years, all I have known was my siblings and the comfort that they bring. Not only are they the other two-thirds to my life, but they are my best friends. Jaelyn and Dakota (my sister and brother, respectively) are my guidance, security, and sanity.

I grew up in a small community and grew accustomed to the people I knew. But I’ve also moved around and had to cope with the challenges of new introductions.

From my earliest memory, my life in the Philippians was surrounded with joy. I was born

My story begins on the 8th of November an "epic" day. I was born about two weeks early with my twin brother. we weighted about 8 ounces and we could fit in the palm of my dad's hand but not all was good we suffered from asthma and we were also diagnosed with being color blind. we had to be put in machines to help me breathe. That’s all I remember for my first 2 years of being alive. Then disaster struck as we had to go into the foster care system because our parents were drug and alcoholic addicts. Me and my 4 brothers we spilt up into two different homes me and isaac were with one family after about 2 months going home to home. Meanwhile our 3 other brothers were with a different foster family.

On June 10, 2006, I woke up like any other Saturday, expecting it to be a good day of baseball. Little did I know, how much my life was about to be turned upside down. Getting the news that my father had passed away from a heart attack, at the age of 30, really took a toll on my family and I. I couldn’t let that stop me from having a successful life because he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way. That meant it was time for me to step up to the plate and be a man, be a role model for my little brother, and also be the shoulder that my mom could lean on. Even though I was only 10 years old and in the fifth grade, I really grew up and matured since that day.

This was it. Everything I had ever done had led up to this weekend, to this moment. All the hard work, all the supporting roles, all the learning from people older than me. I was finally ready to have my chance to be in the light. I remember pacing back and forth with smell of fresh paint in my nose, the stage having been painted the day before. My hands were shaking. I kept checking my arms to make sure I had not sweat through my costume. I kept running the opening monologue in my head, hoping and praying I did not forget anything. Then the time came. The lights had gone out and I could still hear the murmur of people talking as I stepped out on stage.

Looking back on my childhood before August of 2016, I can say I’ve had a sheltered, carefree, and rather easy life. I was content with all aspects of my life; I had wonderful friends, had been a straight “A” student for my entire educational career, had a relatively well-paying job for a fourteen-year-old boy, and my family and all those around me seemed equally satisfied and pleased with their lives. This would change in early August of 2016. The sudden and terrible news hit me in such a way that I felt as if the wind had been knocked out of me. When my parents announced they were getting a divorce, it astonished me because I did not foresee its coming. I sat aghast, unable to comprehend the words which had just assailed my ears. I felt feeble and vulnerable to the world, as if a strong enough breeze would be able to whisk me away, and I hoped it would, to create distance between myself and the situation.

It was early morning; I had slept very little.  My stomach was torn between hungry and sick.  The fact that my nerves were on edge did not help the situation.

In 2014 my life changed drastically, and I have not been the same person that I was that short time ago. It all began with my big secret coming out and continued to roll into a giant snowball, up until I finally found the sun to melt it away. I went through a long depressive phase and then along my journey I found peace again.

Despite how average my life has been thus far, especially compared to others, I have learned so much. Whether I was faced with minor complications or major decisions, I had much knowledge to gain. Regardless of the outcome of my actions, I simply reflected on what I had to learn and carried on. Because, regardless of whether I like it or not, time will continue forward, even if I’m not. If not my age, then it’s my experiences that define who I’ve grown to become.

Aurora, Illinois, a suburb near Chicago with many hills, big and small, and many lakes, rivers, and ponds. The townhouse I lived in was quite noisy at times, thanks to mom and dad. Aside from all the parental chaos, home was home, purple chicken noodle soup and bike rides were what I looked forward to. I loved the landscape and how much of it there was, the sky was always so colorful, the fireflies lit up the city parks making the city seem magical in a way. Aurora was a city that was all about unity, everyone came together for events, clubs, and during tragedies. You would always see a group of people running the hills in matching shirts or a whole neighborhood celebrating someone's birthday.

n I was 9 years old. I lived with my younger brothers james and my mother mary. We lived in Norwich on a farm. It was a beautiful place with fresh air and lots of crops.I had lived there my whole life until we had to move. One Day I was sitting in the kitchen cleaning the harvested vegetables for lunch and dinner when my mother came in saying we had to move immediately. She said that a rich man bought our land and we could no longer live there or work there. After a day in packing the next day we moved to manchester. My mother had heard there was jobs there and even me and my brother could work for some extra money.

It was the summer before my eighth-grade year. I was thirteen years old and so excited for the upcoming school year. I earned a position on both the mixed and girls select choirs. I loved my school, I had a great group of friends, and life was good; or so I thought. On a muggy 100 degree July afternoon, my dad took my little sister and me on an “outing”. We walked to the nearby Zip- Trip gas station for finger freezing milkshakes. Once we purchased our chilly beverages, we proceeded to walk to Brentwood Park. We sat at a wooden picnic table held together by rusty nails and worn down by time. Etchings of hearts with initials inside covered the table like wrapping paper. The three of us chatted about our vacation to Portland and asked “get-to-know-you” questions. After about half an hour, there was a lull in the conversation and all that could be heard was the slurping of the last drops of cookies ‘n cream milkshakes. That’s when dad said he had some news. He announced that he received a job offer as the dentist on an army base, which was fantastic because he had been wanting to find a new position. Then the bomb dropped. The job was on Kwajalein in the Republic of the Marshall Islands, and I had no clue where that was. We had 2 months to pack up, say our goodbyes, and leave. September 19th, 2013, we embarked on our new adventure. We flew from Washington to Colorado to Hawaii and on the 21st we arrived at Kwajalein. As soon as we stepped off the plane, we were bombarded by