Surprise Trip

The unpacking took a long time we had to pick our rooms and then bring our things in them. I picked the upstairs room, it had a bathroom and a big closet. The room was isolated from the rest of the family and in my old house our rooms were close by each other, so I moved to a room down stairs since it felt weird. It was odd living in a new place, at least at my grandma’s house I had visited it before. It was different having a basement since in Florida if you dug out a basement it would flood with water from the sea. It took awhile but we finally unpacked all our things and it was almost time to start school. We got my sister and I enrolled for school at Horizon Elementary School. The rest of that summer went fast, before I knew it I was going to my first day of school of fourth grade. I started to make new friends and it turned out it wasn’t so bad to move to

As I lay there in the sand, the burning pain surging from where the surprisingly sharp-edged seat - that in a twist of tragic irony was the very same vehicle I attempted to draw satisfaction from - had dug into my legs, I mulled over what put me in that position. I was in Ottawa on holiday, the city before this city in which my life was idyllic, where I was surrounded by who I once considered to be lifelong friends playing in the park with me, enveloped in a deep passion for the place where I was born and my family still lived happily together. Being uprooted and haphazardly transported to a city seemingly an entire world away with only one of my rocks to rely on for reasons not entirely known to me was a horrible experience, and I fell into a deep depression when I made it here to Edmonton. I looked upon the dullness and unfamiliarity of oil country and compared it to the manicured government town that was the Ottawa I had so many fond memories in and found it falling hopelessly short; I then retreated back into those memories as a refugee. I grew older of course, and over time I began to create new memories and nurture a different kind of love for Edmonton and Alberta. Yet when I returned to Ottawa, and reconnected with old friends and family members I began to wonder just how different my life could’ve been if I stayed in Ottawa, if I didn’t have to dissolve old bonds to forge new ones or waste time wallowing in self-doubt over my parent’s separation. Would I

The poem “Finding Home” written by Carolina Hospital tells the story of how Mexicans who come to America try to find their heritage in the United States. Like many who migrate to America, the immigrants miss their country and are concerned about losing their culture. In contrast to Harvey Gomez, this poem shows that many Mexicans in America appreciate their heritage. “I have travelled north again,/to these gray skies/and empty doorways,” (Hospital 101). This shows that they miss their native country and are concerned about forgetting their heritage. Perhaps Harvey’s grandparents thought the same thing when they first came to America from Mexico. Regardless of their arrival in America, they want to return to Mexico someday. “I must travel again soon” (Hospital 102). Despite leaving their native land they have respect for Mexico and will visit again. After the experience that Harvey had in discovering his heritage, I am sure that he will visit Mexico again.

As I went downstairs the tone of the room felt hot, humid, and empty. Hot, because of the burning Atlanta temperatures of ninety-eight degrees or higher. Humid, caused by the broken air conditioning and affecting the density of the atmosphere. Finally empty. The furniture was missing and minimal sounds can bounce off to make echoes. I was departing from a place that I called home. I lived at the address 353 Leisure Court for almost a year; the identity of the street brings back smiles to my face because of its pleasantry. Living here has made me feel secure like a dog to his owner. Moving away from this security brought feelings of uncertainty. My lack of confidence was about the new beginnings my family would experience after the move. But

“Natalie!” “Miguel!” we hugged once we saw each other. She took me back to the house “So what are you doing here brother” “I came to visit for 3 days.” Once I saw mom I felt overweight and almost fell but with the little strength I had I hugged her. “Honey I missed you” “Me to Mom.” After, we had dinner then I unpacked everything I had to give them like a coffee machine, telephone, and backpacks and gloves. “Mom how’d did you guys get a house in the city.” “Remember how I had a shop I sold it for more money than it was and the money you were sending us helped a lot.” The next day I wake up to a beautiful sound of the city and birds and people talking. I go outside and saw the house and it wasn’t a apartment the house was huge with a enormous backyard. The next day I left back to Los Angeles and started to do the same thing work on the weekdays then go to my mom’s house on the weekends. The dust bowl had ended and my 2 brothers and 2 sister left to college to and we became a great

I don’t remember much, I just remember not wanting to leave. The place I would be spending the rest of my life I had only visited a few times. I, only being two at the time, was absolutely terrified of moving. Moving. It seemed like the worst possible thing that could’ve happened then. At first, when we left, it felt the same as the last time I had gone there. Then the realization that I would be gone forever kicked in, and the fact that this time, my dad wasn’t coming with us. Just my mom and I.

“Where are we going?” She then looked at me and said, “We’re moving to Texas.” Out of all places, Texas? We lived in southern California our whole lives, so moving to Texas was definitely a shock to me. “What about our family and friends?” Her eyes began to water, so I knew talking about it further would only make things worse. Texas. It was stuck in my head and I couldn’t stop thinking about it. The more I thought of it, the worse it sounded. The worst part was that it was so sudden, so it didn’t seem real. Because my parents are divorced, I spent the weekends at my dad’s house. He was torn that I was leaving Riverside, which of course meant that weekend visits would turn

I felt that my parents dragged me to a place where I didn’t want to be. The three of us moved to NYC, and the first three months we were all compacted into one single bedroom, trying to start a new life. It was a drastic change from the way we lived back in Colombia, each having their own separate bedroom.

At age two, after my mom saved enough tips, we moved into the white shack on the corner, across the street from a greasy breakfast joint. The house that hadn't been lived in for over 15 years. It adopted many rats, insects, and had no decent plumbing or electrical system in place. My mom single-handedly reconstructed this rat-shack and it became our make-shift home. My bedroom ceiling leaked over my head and I'd often sneak into my mom's bed which was placed in the dining room. Our living "room" was the size of a small school bathroom. It smelt like one

He was now left alone in a familiar territory. All around the house, white sheets covered many artifacts that once entertained an audience. The house had a slight smoky odour, which tickled his nose. Although he tried to stay quiet, each step he took the floor creaked in response, probably due to the renovations the house was under.

“Hello,” a clam, kind voice said. My eyes flashed open and darted around looking at the room I was in. It was a bedroom. A grand, white, perfect bedroom. I was on the bed, just laying on the top. My hands were folded, and I felt at peace. I felt comfortable.

“Open your eyes…” A voice whispered. I lifted an eyelid, feeling a warm breath on my neck.

I pulled out of his driveway and got back on the highway. Soon I got to my apartment building and went to my floor, 21. From the glass-enclosed elevator, I could see everything. I could see the magnolia trees, ashes, beeches, and bald cypresses. Far away, I could see the gulf and the fisheries on the water. Florida's economy was growing rapidly, in terms of fish. (Fuson and Norrell; Muller and Irvin). Finally, the elevator warning bell rang and I got off. I walked down the carpeted hallway and I was at my apartment. There, I unlocked the door and walked in. The sun was down and the stars were up. I could see lights everywhere from the other homes and buildings. I walked into my room and fell into the bed. I could tell it was time for bed. I shut my eyes and dreamed sweet dreams. It was early in the evening, yet there I rest, the only peaceful part of the hectic Florida town

One Spring, my mother and I were visiting my uncle in Alabama. I wanted to see what all the state had to offer. My aunt informed us that a new clothing store had opened in a small town outside of Mobile, Alabama. My mother and I love to shop so we immediately jumped in her sedan and proceeded to the store. Alabama’s scenery was so mesmerizing. The bright sun glistening on Mobile Bay was absolutely breathtaking. I could hardly keep my eyes open to enjoy the view because the sun began to impair my

It was the summer of 1977, and my father decided to pack the station wagon and drive from Fort Worth to Tampa, Florida. Besides my parents in the vehicle, my two sisters and brother also joined us for the long journey. I was young and excited and did not realize the distance my father would be driving on this trip. We made two stops on the way down and the first one was in Mississippi at a Holiday Inn. My first time spending the night the night at a hotel occurred on this vacation, and I was excited. We had adjoining rooms with my parents, and we spent the evening in the pool and watching television all night. I was never aware of my parents’ finances but I know now, we did not have a lot of money. From Mississippi, we stopped again in Tallahassee, Florida and we swam in the ocean during the afternoon and hit the hotel pool in the