Personal Narrative: Moving To USA

Moving to America, was a difficult transition for me. I had come to the realization that I wasn’t going to see my friends any time soon back in Iran and that was hard to overcome at a young age. I was alone as a child because my siblings are a lot older than me, and my parents’ had the challenge of starting over because they had left everything behind in Iran. However, that wasn’t going to get in the way of me succeeding in school. I have always been a fast learner, by the age of eight I had already learned four languages. Also, I was voted most improved by my classmate every year I was in Elementary School. This might not seem like a big achievement, but as a young student in a new country it was a huge motivation boost for me to improve every

Even though it hasn’t been a long time since our family has moved to America, it feels like a lifetime ago. I can barely remember the days of walking around barefoot and only having a small piece of bread to eat, while here everyone has shoes to wear and eats pasta multiple times a week. How my life has changed in such a short time. Everyone and everything moves at such fast pace here, if one blinks they can miss a lifetime. Back in Sicily, the days drug on while everyone went through the motions of their days on the farm. There are many differences between Sicily and here in America, but the first time I laid my eyes on the Statue of Liberty, I knew I was meant to be an American.

My family and I in 2008 moved from Trinidad and Tobago to America. We were all so excited to move to a new country. We heard about all the fun experiences and great opportunities that America had to offer. I must admit that I had mixed emotions about moving to a new country. On one hand, I was exactly happy because I was going to have an opportunity to go college and presume my dream of being a childhood teacher or child psychologist. On the other hand, I was sad because I was leaving all my Tobago friends and family

I was sitting in the back of the taxi in Ukraine. The car moved and I began to see the one I love fade into the gray night fog. I will never forget the feeling I had during that moment. Like something was being ripped from my heart - a moment of great despair as I leave both my family and my country.

"Yesenia tu tienes una chispa" said a much older white haired man. At that moment how could a snot nosed brat understand the importance of words coming out of this man's mouth? A big part of me today traces back to words my grandfather so sweetly spoke to me and to the tenderness and love he shared with me. "Yesenia you have a spark" He said it to me I was raised to believe I am unique. The first time my grandfather and I were separated was when my parents made the decision to move to the United States. When you're as young as I was, you don't really understand where you're going or why everyone is crying, or the fact that your life is about to change. Coming to the United States caused chaos in my family. Those first years were hard I wasn't used to an unstable household. Later, my parents divorced that led to hate and

Have you ever thought of what it would be like to move to another country? Well, about a month ago I had to do that exact thing and let me tell you it’s pretty difficult to adjust.

Growing up in Puerto Rico, my biological father was in and out of jail for failing to obey the court rules. As a result, my mother became my mom and dad. Although I had to experience that, I was a straight A student all throughout elementary school.

The first time I’ve met my parents was when I was five. When they approached me at the airport, I did not know who they were. When I found out that they were my parents, I did not know how to react — I was excited, but also scared. Standing in front of me were two people whom I listened to the voices of for the past five years and spoke casually with on the phone, but meeting them in person was a whole different story.

On September 24, 2010, an airplane carried me to the ground of another country, to another dialect, new culture, new places, new habits, new challenges, new people and all in all, new life. I won't describe for you a lot about how hard it was to say farewell to all my relative and my friends, because I think you can picture yourself what would it feel like to leave everybody you know in your own country and move to America. When you leave your adolescence home — the place where you grew up, your local area or your country of residence or your homeland or anyway you feel to call it — you leave a piece of you behind. Before I came here in America, I thought that I would be in Hollywood, cozy house, bunches of tall structures, however to my mistake

Transitions are a part of life. Most people their first big move is going to college after high school. Mine was gliding over the Pacific Ocean at the age of three to New Zealand. When most people think of this country, they think of The Lord of the Rings, an abundance of sheep, or even, “that one island close to Australia”. To me, though, New Zealand was my home. After nine years, I would be leaving everything I knew and I would be moving to America. However, my life did not start in New Zealand. I was born in Fairfax Hospital, Virginia, and for the first three years of my life, I lived in America. I don’t remember much about the house we lived in, but I do remember walks to the park and my black Labrador: Pepper. We had to leave her behind when we moved to New Zealand in 2000 because strict bio-security laws would require her to be quarantined. She was left behind. I left many more memories behind in New Zealand when I moved back to America in 2009. Things like

The environment in which i was raised on was a pretty and calm back then. I came from a not rich or medium class but a low class. That place was that i was raised where i came from is mexico matamoros tamaulipas not a really good or great place now but where i lived was the best place ever. lived there all my childhood until i was six. My parents wanted a better future for me a better education a better life for me so we moved to the united states. I still had my both parents and in still do except at that time we had bad economic situations. My dad had to head up north and look for a job in florida i didn’t want him to go especially because it would be hard for me not being able to see him. Sometimes i wouldn’t see my dad for a year or two

That day at the airport, I thought about a lot of things while we wait for the plane to take off. Moving to the United States with my sister was a huge turning point for me on so many levels. It meant that I will need to learn a new language and adapt to a new culture. It meant that I will leave my aunt and uncle who have raised me for the past eleven years. It meant that I will live with my mom and see my dad and stepdad for the very first time. My emotion was mixed with excitement, fear, and hesitation.

Many people who move to American, immigrate because it’s their last option. Some people flee to escape war, or poverty. My dad’s situation on the other hand, was more of a mental decision. I interviewed my father, Mariusz Kukielko for this project because I admire his intentions and courage he had when he was forced to make this big decision. I have always know he was an immigrant, because I was myself about three years old when we moved, but I was too young to recall anything. The interview took place in my living room.

I'm in a small small town named Grosselec Poland in the year 1920. I am in the town square, people are bustling about. There are many shops selling food, clothes and a few selling jewelry. I look over to see a woman walking with her three daughter to the grocery store. I follow them inside to hear the owner say, “Hello Jetti how are Rachella, Sylvia and Esther? Any word from Jacob?” This is my great great grandma, my Mom's, Dad's, Mom's, Mom, Jetti Teidor. She responds, “They are doing fine, now word though, I am starting to think that it is time for us to move to America.” After they leave I follow them home. Jetti opens the door, walks to the small kitchen and starts to make dinner.

Sometimes I can still smell the multiplicity of aromas that inhabited the first nine years of my life the erotic spices, the faint smell of motor oil. I can hear the sounds of the crowded streets of Mumbai the sounds of music and horns honking. My family and I are from Mumbai, India where my mother and father owned several small cell phone stores, and repair shops. A few of my earliest memories were going there as a child to help my father with the different task, and cleaning around our shops.