Personal Hardship by Uprooting Our Family

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

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

From the ages of 8- 14, I lived in a very volatile home. Coming home from school, I never knew if it was going to be a quiet day in my house or if the entire house would be engulfed in screaming. I dreaded the weekends, that meant that everyone was going to be home. Everyone home meant that things could easily go up to flames in just a millisecond. I tried my best to never be home, I would spend the days with my friends. I knew that when I got home there was a 90% chance of everyone fighting. One day in the summer of 2012, things got too heated, and my mom finally decided to move. We packed up everything in a few hours while my stepfather was at work. We moved into my best friend’s home for a few days until we found an apartment within the school district to move into.

There is one loss in my life that affected many aspects of my life for many years, the divorce of my parents. I was in barley entering the first grade and the tender age of five, soon to turn six, when my parents spent their last night as a married couple. I do not have many memories of my parents as a couple but I do remember the day my Daddy left. He was a policeman and I watched as his cruiser drove away from our family home. I remember my mom crying and not being willing to console me or explain to me what was happening. All I knew is there was a fight, my dad left, it seemed different than other times when he left, and my mom was crying. Everything about my life changed in the blink of a five year old’s eyes which is what makes this loss so significant in my life.

My mother sat down with my sister and I, and told us that ultimately, the four of us would have to move because we were being forced to sell our home. I accepted this decision, not comprehending fully how far away I would actually be. I could not grasp the idea that I would be leaving the people I was with since I could walk. Everything I went through and everything I did was with them. All the memories we made on the street would slowly fade, but be kept forever. Moving day, I knew deep down that I had to be strong throughout this new development in my life. I was moving to a place where I didn’t know anyone, where I did not know what school I would be going to, or if I would have neighbors just like the ones in Southington. I climbed into my father's truck, not knowing what would happen from then on. I was surrounded by my all neighborhood friends, all in tears. I remember feeling fearless, ready to take on anything life would throw at me. As one of my close friends walked up to the truck with tears in her eyes, I looked at her with reassurance that everything would be

Six years ago, a summer afternoon, my dad hugged me and I said “I will be gone for three days, I have a job in Austin, but I promise that I will be back before your birthday. I promise.” Days, weeks, months almost two years passed by and I did not receive any phone call or text message from him. Throughout that time my dad was gone, my mom told me that she was getting the papers ready to divorce my dad. I was noticing that the last three-four years that I was living with both of my parents, their relationship was getting worse. It was not a healthy situation for anyone in the house. What I mean about not being healthy is that my mother and father were damaging one another, emotionally and verbally, which my brothers and I would watch everything. Every day was the same routine, we forgot how it was to have a peaceful home. Around that moment, I honestly never thought divorce was going to be their solution.

It all started on a warm sunny day, my dad had just arrived from Michigan. He came into the house gave my siblings, my mother and me a hug and told us the big news. “We are moving to Michigan” he said. He said it so calmly as if expecting my siblings, my mother and myself to react in a good way. Immediately I started to panic, I didn’t want to leave the place I grew up in. I was only eleven years old, I didn’t know how the people in Michigan would be. Finally I spoke “ I don’t want to move dad, I love it here!” which he responded with “I’m sorry but we are going to move because we can’t afford to live here anymore” He said this so emotionless as if not knowing how this could affect me. I hardly got any sleep that night for the fact that my parents were arguing for what felt like all night, but in reality was just an hour.

My father moved to the United States before I was born. The reason is simple, like any other father he wanted the best for his family and that meant searching for new opportunities in this country. As my third birthday approached my mother and I prepared for the transition. At that time my father worked on a forklift in a recycling company. Years later he got laid off because companies no longer wanted to risk being

It was a beautiful, sunny day in South Florida. I was six years old, playing by the pool with my new puppy. I loved swimming in the pool almost every day after school. I also enjoyed going out on our boat after school or crossing the street and going to the beach. My father came home one evening with some interesting news. Now, I do not remember exactly how I felt about the news at that time, but it seemed like I did not mind that much. He had announced that we were going to move back to my birth country, Belgium. I had been living in Florida for five years and it was basically all I had known so I did not know what to expect. I had to live with my mom at first, and then my sister would join us after she graduated high school and my father

It was late October, 2011, when my parents told me we’re moving. I didn’t believe them. “What kind of joke is this? This is jaw dropping.“ But later, a sudden coldness hit at my core and I realized that they were serious. More deliberate questions popped in my mind. “Why would we move? What about my friends? Who is going to pay for the house?” These were all questions that initially ran through my jumbled mind. My parents refused to answer my questions. This however, got me extremely angry. How could they force such a change in my life and ignore my questions? My parents were being bitter, not because they were making me move, but because they were completely ignoring my feelings and questions. My opinions, pointless and powerless, meant nothing to them because the choice has already been made. After all, I’m pretty sure no one would like to move to a new country and adapt to a new environment.

My family first moved to America about three years ago in January of 2014. We came as a family of five: my mom, Nava, my dad, Yoav, my older sister, Maya, Me, and my younger brother, Tomer. My parents were born in Israel, but they relocated to boston about 18 years ago and came back to Israel after my older sister was born. This is their second relocation, but their first with a whole family. Just like their first time, they relocated because of my dad’s job. He now works at Microsoft, and he flew to the U.S so much my parents decided to move. I remember coming home from school to see both my mom and dad looking at me. I realized they had something to tell me, and I was very nervous. My initial reaction was to cry. I didn’t want to move away

After my father graduated from college, He moved around to look for more opportunities to further his education. Later on; he married my mother, and they decided to move to Yemen from Somalia. The decision was mostly made because they witnessed their family and friends being killed and tortured during the Somalian civil war. In Yemen, my father taught in an elementary school and he loved his job. However, one day all of our lives changed dramatically. One day my father was taking his usual route through the mountains to get to work, and suddenly he lost balance over a rock and fell downhill. The freak accident left him paralyzed for life because he went through a seizure that caused paraplegia. Since he was the sole provider for our family,

When I think of the word “hardship,” I think of situations of great loss, divorced parents, or extreme poverty. Looking at things from that point of view, I have never experienced a “hardship.” Although, I have not dealt with these types of hardships, I can still think about smaller daily struggles. It is important to remember that different people go through different situations because everyone has a different life and lesson to learn. I may not remember a time someone close to me died or a time when I was hungry, but I remember how hard it was for me to learn, when I was younger.

The lights and sirens filled the otherwise quiet neighborhood as I was drug out of my mother’s arms and put into the back of a familiar car. I watched as my home became nothing but a speck in the distance. From that point, I sat dumbfounded focused on what had just happened. How could a choice end this badly? Nothing made sense to me, then. It was in my grandmother’s home where my mother and I resided. My mother stayed with my grandmother since she was merely 21 years old and was beginning to enter into adulthood. However, an opportunity arose which meant me making a decision. I could move with my mother into her new home she bought in White Oak, West Virginia (in Raleigh County) or stay at my grandmother’s. Being the adventurous five years

In life everyone will face some form of hardship. Some people may not go through as many hardships as some others might but we all still have our own personal problems. In my life I have not faced many hardships like some others have which I am very grateful for such things not happening to me. But even though I haven't gone through many hardships I have still had my own fair share of personal hardships. One such hardship I have gone through twice is overcoming the death of a loved one.