Personal Narrative: My Only Latino Community

I AM DIFFERENT but I offer nothing in the way of extenuating except the fact I'm the only Latino in my family who can't read, write, or communicate in Spanish.

I remember the very day I became different. Up to my seventh year my family generally spoke in English but would occasionally speak in Spanish and I would no idea what they were talking about and only understand bits and pieces from the conversation. My family lived in a small community were most people were white and spoke English save for a few. Heading to a new neighborhood to me was a very strange experience. I felt frightened and excited about meeting new people. The neighborhood I lived in was mostly comprised of Latino's and a few white's a complete contrast from my old neighborhood. Because of this my mom pressed me further to learn more Spanish.

The only road

My sister and I would often play or hangout with them but my mother was very strict with these visits and would only let us hangout once maybe twice a week. Despite this however life was good to me, I had good friends, lived in a nice house across the street from my elementary school.

But changes came near the end of fifth grade and beginning of my middle school life. My mother and father thought about moving and bought a house in mission hills. My sister was surprisingly alright with but was sad that we wouldn't be able to see our friends for a while or as often. I felt the same but was again excited about possibly making new friends with the neighbors.

I did not mind the new house, to me it was nice and bright compared to my old house which was brown and dull. My sister spent a little time being mopey from moving while I decided to make myself at home and picked my home and brought my stuff in. Despite the little ups and downs in my life I learned that no matter how bad things can get, you just keep moving forward and make the best of any