Personal Narrative Essay: My Home Sweet Home: Home Sweet Home

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Home Sweet Home
I often wonder what my life would be like if I had taken a different route. I remember the day as if it was yesterday, August 25th, 2006. I was only eight years old when I was separated from my mother. That day was the beginning of my new life with my foreign father and unfamiliar stepmother. Prior to this, the memories I had of my father were very faint; I would only see him once a year when he would come to visit my brother and I. The journey I was about to embark on was not one of a few hours in a car, but overseas. I was leaving the only place I had ever known; the Dominican Republic to come live in Canada. That night, when I got off the plane, I knew my life had changed forever. Imagine, arriving in a new country,
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Arriving here, my surroundings were different; I was not used to seeing such clean streets, peaceful neighborhoods, and order between the citizens. It was culture shock at its finest. Not only with the surroundings was I surprised, but the experience of education was different as well. There was an array of diversity within the students in my class. Nonetheless, people were genuinely accepting. Within a couple of months I considered myself a fluent English speaker. The transition was like riding a bike, I quickly felt incorporated into the society that I feared would not accept me. Fast-forward to my teenage years, I had good grades, amazing friends, and a great job. Additionally, I had a great relationship with my siblings. To an outsider, I had a great life. However, life at home was not the greatest. I was unhappy because I missed my mom who I only saw during the summer, but I had learned to hide my feelings well. I grew accustomed to coming home to the constant fighting between my father, stepmom, and myself for reasons I cannot even recall; it was a welcoming…show more content…
I could go back home and be with my mom and family. With that option, I knew I would truly be happy again, but my future, uncertain. The other option was to stay in Canada and attempt to build a life for myself with a western education, even if it was at the expense of my happiness. Considering the numerous amount of people back home dying to have the opportunities I have in Canada, was I ready to give it up? In that moment, I knew I could not give an opportunity to have a better life. The next day before my father went to work, I said to him “I going to

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