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Coming to America


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Family was always important to my parents. They taught my siblings and me family should always come first. No matter how far the distance we should always support each other and never forget to keep in touch. The moment I came to America was the day I finally understood the importance of family.

When I woke up it was just like any other; little did I know everything was about to change. I was six years old, and all I could think about was running down the wooden stairs of my parents’ house and scooping up my neighbors’ new born kittens. I quickly brushed off the covers and made my way down. When I reached the living room I found boxes of all colors and sizes scattered around the room. I decided to look for my mother to ask her about the boxes. When I found her she was bent down; her entire head in the cabinet taking cups and wrapping them in old newspapers. I asked her what the boxes were for and she told me we were going to live in America. Uncertain where America was, I realized my life in Guyana was temporary.

The next morning I was suddenly awoken by the sound of shuffling in my room. I looked for the culprit and found my dad taking my suitcase out the door. He realized I was awake and told me to get dressed for the busy day ahead. Making my way to the van I noticed a large bus the size of a greyhound parked right next to the house. I squinted my eyes looking at the scurrying shadows passing in the tinted windows trying to make out all the people in it.

It was my relatives, and they saved up to rent a bus to go with us to the airport. I was astonished to see how many people wanted to say goodbye. Everything was packed and we finally drove off the rubble driveway that I would never brush my fingers into, earnest to find shimmering treasures with the faces of men I did not know etched on them. I looked out the window and saw a crowd of unfamiliar faces standing outside waving at our van as we passed by. Finally we reached the airport and everyone had the identical expression.

A heavy frown fell, followed with tears gushing out and stained what make up was left on my aunts’ face. She grabbed me in a tight embrace like she was never going to see me again and told me to be good. I had never seen such love and care as I did from my family, especially from people that were unfamiliar to me. After all the goodbyes we made our way into the building. I held a suitcase of my own, eager to help my parents as much as they would let me.
Taking each step towards our plane I clenched to the suitcase rolling silently behind me. Even though it was behind me I knew I would always have it because I held on tight. It was the same for all my friends and family that were behind me. As we walked to our future I would never forget the love and support that stood there crying.



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