Scariest Moment In My Life

It has been 11 years since we have arrived to Los Angeles, California. I can still remember the feeling of when my father had said to us that he we would be moving to a far place to try to find better jobs for my mother and him because with the two jobs my father had and the washing and ironing of other peoples clothes my mom did was not bringing enough money to support my sisters and me and did they wanted to provide a better life for my sisters and me. Mexico was such a poor country that my parents could not see themselves make enough money to support my sisters and me, let alone see us get a better education. So my parents decide to migrate to the United States with one of my mother’s brother. We arrived in Los Angeles, California on

The journey began, the first state we rode through was Alabama, I couldn’t see much since it was night time. All I could see was the clear night sky. No stars were shining that night. The only lights I could see were street lights, building lights, and other cars. Looking around inside the car, everyone was asleep except for my uncle since he was the one driving. I must have been asleep the whole 4 hours and 46-minute car ride through Mississippi because I don’t remember anything, same with Louisiana. Finally, when we got to Texas all I wanted to do was get out of the car, so luckily, we stopped by to eat at Cici’s. My aunt said, “To enjoy this last meal since it was the last fast food, that we would be having for a while.” After we ate, it took us about 5-hours to get to Matamoros, Mexico. That was where we had to drive through the border to get into Mexico. Once we got into Mexico, there were lines of cars everywhere from people trying to enter and leave at the same time. The lines were slowly moving, like a turtle, inch by inch. There

My story would have never begun if my parents had not made a huge decision in my life, almost 15 years ago. When they decided to move our family across the border, my future would be become unknown. The fate I had been destined to have was completely altered, now, I had the opportunity to change my life for the better, to strive for something bigger. My parents pushed me to be the best I could be, and to work as hard as possible to get what I wanted. As the daughter of two Mexican immigrants I grew up in a very cultural household, and being surrounded by Spanish at all times. The only negative being I had to learn English on my own, and which led to me having some difficulty when I first started school. Yet, growing up in a Spanish speaking

I remember the day I first came to America. I was in the LAX airport, looking around the totally strange place which was full of strangers. All I could hear was the strangers' buzzing. I was upset about leaving all of people I knew and loved behind me to follow my father, mother and, sister here where we could find better "educational opportunities". I had grown up being around people who used the same language as me and had black hair and brown eyes. I spent my entire childhood in Buwtal Nepal until 2010. On April 27th 2010, I departed from Tribhuvan International Airport with my lovely parents and sister. My uncle was receiving us at the Airport. I still remember landing in New York around 8 o’ clock in the morning and that fresh smell in the air with the start of a whole new life.

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.

I grew up in a small town in the state of Michoacan, Mexico until a few weeks after my seventh birthday. In 2001, after six years since my father petitioned to have us come to the United States with him and finally he had received a letter from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services that his request had been approved. Being of that age, I was my mother’s companion everywhere, however, all I could grasp from those conversations was that we were going to the United States. I don 't think any of us knew what this meant or to what extent this would change our lives, not even my parents whom I thought knew it all.

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

It seems like just yesterday Mom was telling me to pack my bags. We were living in a small farming town just outside Catarina, Mexico. Times were really tough and Dad had lost his job. My family knew of people moving to the United States for work, but my family never considered it. Our entire family resides in Mexico; the thought of moving was unbearable.

A deportation of a family member can bring about many hardships for the entire family, but economically and emotionally. The topic of deportations is important given that “an estimated 4.5 million U.S. citizen children live in families in which one or both parents are undocumented” (Gulbas & Zayas, 2017). The voices of children should be researched further and heard when creating new immigration policies. I am interested in this topic given my own personal background. I grew up in a household where both my parents are undocumented as well as myself. Although I didn’t experience either parent being deported, I still recall consciously knowing that it can happen someday. This same fear of being separated by a loved one is experienced

It all stared at the age of five on hot summer day, the heat was horrible it was as though my very skin was had skipped the meting phase and had gone directly evaporating. To make the situation even worst, my family migrated from Nogales Sonora to Tucson Arizona in an old rusty car that had no working AC. Thinking back I really didn’t know the difference between a person born in the United States and a person born in Mexico, I didn’t even know there was a US and Mexico. I just thought my family was moving from one city to another and had no idea that every member of my family was a US citizen except my dad. Once in school later on in the years, I met a few friends that claimed to not be from the US but were in the country ever since they can

I was born in Merida, Mexico. That special day my father was in prison, he would leave our family by my fourth birthday. It would take me eight years to reunite with him in America. With two sisters and a single mother, I became the man of the house at a young age. Neither of my parents finished a high school education. I held my first job at age seven cleaning windshields at stoplights for any available change, in an effort to alleviate my mother’s burdens. My life experiences have taught me resiliency, hard work, and determination.

Time passed and I still hated Mexico. I complained every day, I wanted to go back to the place I loved, but a knife cuts both ways with a loose definition of origin, it’s effortless to feel as if you don’t belong anywhere. I started to see the bright sides of moving to Mexico, such as having my entire family with me and having more time to learn about the country I was born from and obtain pride within it. However, Mexico was not my country, it was always busy with people shouting and the school was not helping either. The school was far from accepting, everyone knew each other since kindergarten getting a new kid was like winning an exceedingly rare lottery. Everyone had a rough time adapting, but at the end, we all found our way, after all, intelligence is the ability to adapt. We stayed in Mexico for a year, this gave me enough time to fall in love with my country, I accepted the situation for exactly what it was instead of trying to manipulate it into what I believe it should be. However wonderful or substandard the situation was I would always find the solution. The traffic was unbearable, the city was too dangerous, my accent was confusing. I accepted these challenges so I could feel the acceleration of victory, I started to take the subway, never left the house alone and started to observe how everyone else spoke and copied their accent, even though hard work does not guarantee success, success cannot be achieved without hard work. We also gained a

Way before I ever existed, my parents met in Etzatlan Jalisco, Mexico in the month of October. A small town located near the capital of Mexico, Guadalajara. They dated for about two years before my parents decided to come to the United States. When they moved to the United States, they lived in Mount Airy, North Carolina with my current Godparents for about a month. After a month passed by my parents had moved to Virginia, where they stayed living in their own trailer throughout the pregnancy stages my mother was experiencing. Meanwhile, each day both my mother and father worked outside at a field harvesting peaches and tomatoes.

I was supposed to go camping that evening, but little did I know that I was going to be spending the next three days in a hospital fearing for my brother’s life. This is my story about the scariest moment in my life, when my brother was on the edge of dying.

July 21, 2009 was what I considered to be the worst day of my life for several years. I woke up that morning to an empty room besides my bed, an empty bookshelf, and my hamster, Skittles. In the living room I could hear the sound of boxes being taped shut and several people talking. This was the day I left my life in Omaha, Nebraska to move to Roswell, Georgia. I was ten years old and oblivious to the idea of moving to a different state. Little did I know my dad would be offered a new job in a state I knew nothing about.