My Favorite Day

After being dropped off from dance late at night, I was expecting to walk into a silent house where everyone was asleep. Instead, I walked into my living room to find the rest of my family sitting on the couch with the television off, which was strange for my family. It was clear they were waiting for me to get home, so I sat down too. My mom and dad exchanged a look and a sigh then turned back towards my brother and me. They babbled absently for a few minutes, then, my mom quickly spit out the words, as if ripping off a Band-Aid, "We are moving back to Arizona." There was a brief moment of stunned silence before I burst into tears. I could not imagine why my parents would decide to separate me from my best friends six months before we were supposed to

I was in the car with my family crossing the bridge one day when I watched my father be taken into custody to later be deported and kicked out of our country. My broken family left our hometown of, springs, Houston and moved to the southern Texas border in Brownsville for reasons I have yet to understand. I lost count of how many times we were evicted and the amount of times we lived in Mexico having to cross the border every morning and night.

My father was deported to Mexico in 2011 when I was only eleven years old. He left behind a wife and three children. The first few months were extremely exhausting, I was devastated. I went from coming home to my dad everyday to having him ripped apart from my family without any warning. Before he was deported, he was incarcerated for two months. The first time I visited him I felt intimidated by all the guards standing with guns and serious faces.

There were many other losses that occurred as a result of the divorce of my parents. We had to move so I also lost my home. My mom became a single income family and we suddenly were financially insecure. My dad, who was my hero, was suddenly not a part of my everyday life. My mom became withdrawn and depressed and so in a sense I lost my mom too. All these changes and losses make this one incident in my young life the most significant. The effects of the divorce of my parents followed me well into my twenties.

My mother, three brothers, two sisters and I began to travel to places to collect all the required documents we needed in order to prepare for our appointment, which was to take place in Ciudad Juarez. I was more than thrilled to go places and tell people I was soon leaving to the United States, because that 's where everyone wanted to go and we were the lucky ones. On the other hand, the rest of them were leaving everything behind – their family and friendships. I didn 't have anything to lose because they were all to me; they had their lives there and now an unexpected letter was taking everything away. The truth is my father had petitioned for us just for the sake of it, thinking we wouldn 't get approved but destiny proved other wise. The plan my parents envisioned was taking this opportunity and returning to Mexico the following year with our residency status

As much as I loved living in Mexico as a child I always missed my father, I spend 6 birthdays, 6 Christmases, and 6 Father’s days without him. Even though he called every single day, my sister and I needed him to be in our lives physically. I know it was also very difficult for my parents to be apart and my dad suffered deeply but he was sacrificing to give us a better future. In the summer of 2007, when

We waited two years and nothing happened, our father was very sad and confused about what he could do now. At the same time, he knew there was nothing he could do; it was all up to the immigration center of Sweden to decide our future. Then one day, it was our Holliday called Eid, my mother had her friend with her children over at our house to have a dinner with us, and she told her that they are about to move to United States the next month. My mother was very happy and excited for her friend and asked her how she did it. My mother told her that my fathers had been in Sweden for five years now and still nothing was happening. My mother’s friend told her she needed to apply at the United States immigration center that was located in Moscow and try to see if we would get accepted. Then the next day January of 2004 my mother and I went to the United States immigration center, and we applied for the permanent residence ship to any state. After two months, we received a call from the United States immigration center that we are scheduled for an interview; we all were very excited and happy that we might move to United States, to a country that is known as the dream land and freedom. When we give our interview the person who was interviewing us asked us why we wanted to go to the United States. The answer was very simple to all of my family; it was education, freedom

I asked my friend after PE, “how are you able to attend school if you could face deportation?” He looked at me with a confused sweaty look on his face from running in the heat, as if I was the only person that didn’t t how it was possible. He replied, “It’s just possible and it helps due to the DREAM Act.” I had no clue what this DREAM Act was and why it was important to non-citizens in school. I remember going home that day with those two words, “DREAM Act,” in head and wondering what it was and how it worked. Later that night, I sat down to watch TV in our little apartment of 2 rooms and the news just so happened to be on. The news displayed graphic images of peopled getting arrested and placed into van. The reason for the arrest was to people protesting in favor of the DREAM Act passing. Many who got arrest yelled and stated, I have children and family, don’t separate us. I’ve been here ever since I was little!’ I was shocked that many people would be sent to a place that they know nothing

I never knew my dad was illegally in the United States until he was arrested by U.S Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Everything happened so fast, and before I knew it my whole life was changing. One day I was having a pizza date with my dad, and a few days later I was in the car on a 3 hour drive to the Tacoma Northwest Detention Center to say goodbye to him as he awaited his deportation to Mexico. My father's deportation has been the hardest thing I have ever had to go through. It has brought on emotional hardships and financial struggles, which, has brought on challenges regarding my education.

This article looks at the impact enforcement policies have had on Mexican families more broadly and children specifically. Drawing on interviews with 91 parents and 110 children in 80 households, the author suggests that, similar to the injury pyramid used by public health professionals, a deportation pyramid best depicts the burden of deportation on children (Dreby, 2012, Pg. 829). At the top of the pyramid are instances that have had the most severe consequences on children's daily lives: families in which a deportation has led to permanent family dissolution (Dreby, 2012, Pg. 829). But enforcement policies have had the greatest impact on children at the bottom of the pyramid. Regardless of legal status or their family members' involvement with immigration authorities, children in Mexican immigrant households describe fear about their family stability and confusion over the impact legality has on their lives (Dreby, 2012, Pg. 829). These children are moved from placement to placement, or from various family members, or various shelters. They do not feel safe a lot of the time or have any sense of stability. On top of all of this they do not feel a sense of belonging or even welcomed due to their alien status, this status can hender their chances of overall life

My father left my mother as a young immigrant, he left me at a young age, I only had my mother and my little sister. I couldn’t imagine the world without them, so when I discovered I could potentially lose my mother, I almost fell apart.

Sixteen years ago my parents brought my siblings and I to the United States with nothing but the clothes in our suit cases and the money they in their wallets. Years later, I found out we fled the country. My dad who was a lawyer in Colombia elected to not defend a high profile criminal in a case. Members of my family were kidnapped and killed as a result of my father’s

For a vast majority, families typically consist of a mom, a dad, and siblings. I have a mom, dad, and an older brother. But when I was five years old, one mistake changed everything and my life was turned upside down: my dad cheated on my mom with the woman upstairs. I did not understand it at the time, of course. Looking back, I do not think I fully comprehended the situation until now. In my mind then, it meant no more seeing daddy every day, because I’m moving. We moved to the great state of Virginia; my brother and I both hated it. It wasn’t home, and it could never be. We moved twice before settling down in Midlothian and staying in the comfort of suburbia. I transferred schools for the third time and had to start all over again. It was even more uncomfortable than the first time. I was this tiny, shy second grader. Even though my anxiety was through the roof at that time, I eventually got used to the apprehensive feelings.

In 2010 my dad, sister, and I moved to America. I did not wanted to leave. My sister told me that everything was going to be okay and that I was going to a better school. All I wanted to do was to stay and play with my cousins and help my mom with my little brother. I was very angry with my dad because he was forcing me

It’s a familiar sound. The infuriating, noise I absolutely despise. My deafening morning alarm. I was in la-la land riding on a unicorn, eating aromatic and saccharine chocolate cookies. When suddenly my deep restful sleep is interrupted. Immediately, I cover my ears with my pillow and inside of myself, I cry a river of tears. It’s a Monday morning, my absolute favourite day of the week. NOT! I hate it. Mondays are the worst. Monday is the last on my list of most cherished day in the week. Mondays are not for me. I am not for Mondays. Okay, maybe that was dramatic but I’m making a point. To be specific, it’s 5:00 a.m. in a shiver winter’s morning. My body is weak, and my eyes refuse to open. I’m in a state where my mind is awake, yet my body refuses to physically move and my eyes only want to stay shut. My feet are literally paralysed because of the extremely cold temperature. It’s so cold I feel like my body will exceed its normal body temperature of 36 degrees Celsius. I may just catch hypothermia. Okay, not another beyond dramatic pause. I seriously need to wear my uniform. Just a few more minutes.