Short Story About Moving Back To America

“Times of transition are strenuous, but I love them. They are an opportunity to purge, rethink priorities, and be intentional about new habits. We can make our new normal any way we want”. -Kristin Armstrong. When I heard this quote it reminds me of a specific time in my life when I moved to another country. There are a couple of events that helped me become who I am now.

I had always dreamed to study in the United States of America since it is an extreme case to a lot of people around the world to have a chance to earn education the USA. I am fortunate to have this chance and I value that extremely. I had many challenges and barriers when I decided to come here to the States but I was very focused to earn a degree from here and I over came them in order to make my dream comes true. When I came here moving with my family to attend college that was the hardest part of moving away from my parents and other members of the family and friends. Back home, I was always known as a very social active person among women groups. I used to participate a lot in women clubs and activities due to women segregation in the society

Getting on our plane was probably one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to, especially since my dad couldn’t come with us that day. December 8, 2010 was the day my family decided that moving to America would give me and my brother many more opportunities, keep in mind my parents hadn’t told us that we were moving to the US. I remember I had been hugging my dad saying goodbye to him and my mom had to come and grab me away from him. His face was through the window was the last thing I remember seeing before buckling my seat belt and laying down on my mother’s shoulder. Once we had landed my mother woke me up and said to me that I should help out with the luggage and the other belongings we had to take. The night went by probably faster than

The day was finally here. It was November 11, 1990, the day that our family was to go to ¡®Land Of Liberty.¡¯ I heard so many different things about this country called United States of America and I was warned that it would be nothing you¡¯ve expected. The plane ride did not seem as long as it was; partly because I was lost in my own thoughts with hopes and anxiety. I thought about what I will become in this massive country I was headed and how soon I will adapt to this new culture and people.

On July 11th, 20011, my life was forever changed. In that day, I moved from Congo to the United Sates. It was excitement and fear at the same time, because my life was no longer the same. When I arrived in Atlanta, I realized how much efforts and sacrifices I had to make to adapt the American culture.

My story starts in the year of 2003, when I decided to follow up on my

Looking back on it now, my parents did a lot to get us here in the United States we immigrated from Montego Bay Jamaica to Jacksonville Fl. When I was about six years old. It was my mother, father, my two older sisters and I who all came together it was a long process but well worth the wait, there is a lot of paper works, shots and pictures that had to be taken just to leave my homeland, man it was so tiring watching my parents fill out paper after paper about each one of us individually.

I walked around unsteadily all day like a lost baby, far away from its pack. Surrounded by unfamiliar territory and uncomfortable weather, I tried to search for any signs of similarities with my previous country. I roamed around from place to place and moved along with the day, wanting to just get away and go back home. This was my first day in the United States of America.

“Something that I never had in life, something that you have but are taking for granted, I won't stand for it.” Game controller in hand, I gulped hard, with sweat rolling down my head. My eyes pointed directly downward, not daring to look up as my mother gave “the talk.” My mother’s words echo in my head. Having lost her father during high school, she was denied her right to higher education. She married at a young age, moved to America, and gave birth to me. The first born, the carrier of the American Dream. We were what one would expect from an immigrant Indian family; working hard, valuing education, and hoping for a better tomorrow. As my parents worked hard to sustain our family, I strived to excel in school, motivated by their hardship.

Over the past seven years my family and I have moved to many different countries and we have never stayed in one place for very long. In the year 2009 my family moved to Costa Rica, in 2010 we moved to Guatemala, then in 2011 we moved back to the US, then in 2012 we moved to England, and finally in 2015 I moved by myself back to the US. I really struggled with the moving to different countries so often, the biggest struggle I had was I never felt like I had a permanent home. It also felt like every time I finally put down roots, they just got ripped up again. On the other hand, one of my best friends, who also moved to many different countries all over the world, never struggled with it and loved the adventurous aspect of moving. For the longest

Most students don’t spend tons of time trying to memorize vocabularies, but I do, and i have been doing that for many years now. I have a normal family with parents that love me a lot, we go on to vacations if we have spare time. My new life started when my mom and dad decided to move to America in order for me to get a better education, and mostly did not want me to experience those harsh studying in China. I came to America when I was in fourth grade, and everything was really different from the world I used to be in, the environment, school, and people around me. I felt really uncomfortable at first but I quickly adapted the situation.

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

Born in Saudi Arabia and being Arabian, my mom wanted a better life for me and my family as a whole. However, after deciding to move to America, my parents also decided it would be better to be surrounded by individuals of the same race. This ended up making us move to Alsip, Illinois and being a disadvantage to me as a person for the reason that every mom, dad, kid, uncle, grandma living in the neighbourhood believed African American individuals were the “burnt people of the world”. As a kid, my neighbours and my friends saying a racial slur resembling that wasn’t anything but normal so that attitude to people of different color or race was passed onto me. School wasn’t a problem because it was only arabian kids and white kids. It was when we would go to other towns that were more diverse to visit family friends that problems arose. My dad would say an insult to a African American person at a normal voice level but because he said it in Arabic that individual

While there’s a lot to adore about this fun script, overall, the script would benefit from more development, especially in the areas of structure, some plot choices, and dialogue.