From one place to another
At the age of seven, my life changed forever. I was no longer living in my native country; I was now a fragment of the millions of immigrants who come to the United States in search of the American Dream. At the time, my father had recently lost his job and my mother was unemployed, which caused incredible financial stress for my family. My father decided to risk his life crossing the Rio Grande River for our family to have a better life and greater rewards.
Fall came by and it was time for my sister, mother and I to pack our things and meet him in Dallas.
The moment we stepped foot into the hospital, I could hear my aunt telling my mother that “he is in a better place now”. At that moment, something had already told me that my dad was deceased; it was like I could feel it or something. I felt the chills that all of a sudden came on my arms. As my mother and grandmother were both holding my hand, they took me into this small room. The walls were white, and it had a table with four tissue boxes sitting on the top. My other grandmother was there, and so were my two aunts, my uncles, and
That day started like any other day my mom turning on my bedroom lights, to attending school and being picked up. Although that all changed a few hours after coming home, my father shouted for my siblings and I to come to the living room. I remember my little sister and me maneuvering our way out of our shared bedroom trying not to step on any of the Polly Pockets that were scattered all over the floor into the living room with our older brother trailing
Moving from a highly diverse community to a less diverse community has to be the weirdest yet interesting culture shock I ever had to deal with. As a young child, I did not know about the outside world. I thought everyone rides the bus or the metro, graffiti on the wall is normal and traffic wouldn’t matter as much since everything I needed was within walking distance sometimes. There were shocking things I learned once I moved to Nebraska.
During my freshman year of college, I had met one of my best friends, who go by name Jill. (She lives in New Jersey and while I live in Pennsylvania) I found it to be strange that sometimes, it feels like we have grown up with one another but in reality we have only one another for four years and I couldn’t be more thankful. I can remember when we met at school as if it was yesterday.
Mommy said, “Honey, we’re moving”. I jumped up and down in excitement. A new house, a better one I thought. We were switching from plane to plan for almost two days. I still remember when I was at Gerald R. Ford airport, looking around and it was a totally strange place that fill with strangers. I realized that I was in America, my head spinned around and my heart started to beat faster.
Unbeknownst to my mom and me, we went home and I went to my friend Land's house, who lived downstairs in the condo complex that we lived in at the time. We spent the entire afternoon together and surprisingly my mom didn't even call me up for dinner, so I stayed with them and we had a barbecue. I remember sitting on the bench eating a grilled Portobello mushroom, relaxing with Land and his parents, and thinking how great life was. After dinner Land's mom went off somewhere, I wasn't sure where, but I just figured she went for a Pepsi run as usual.
Between Wednesday, 05/30/2018, at approximately 1800 hours and Friday, 06/01/2018 at approximately 1700 hours, V1 Regina Francis was the victim of a trespassing and vandalism of her fire damaged home by S1 Unknown. This occurred at 355 Accacia Street. There was no known loss from the house. The damage was estimated at $2000.
I heard the door slam, and then another, and another. I heard a faint sound, and I realized it was my brother. He was in the floor next to me; crying. There was a big lady with dark hair sitting in the back seat looking down at us. That’s when I too began to cry. She tried to comfort us, but there was so much commotion going on in the car. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t talk, I was completely frozen. My brother, and I held hands on the floor of the car, and sobbed to ourselves through a car ride that seemed like an eternity. I remembered there was a small rusty hole in the floor where I could see the road. I must have fallen asleep with the trance of the pavement under us, and the sound of my heart beat ringing in my
I finally managed to conjure some courage and unglue myself from the bed. I sat there for a couple of seconds and listened. All I could hear was indistinct voices, and sounds behind my bedroom door. I finally managed to stand up, feeling the frozen concrete floor rushing into my bare feet. I could see my sister’s shadow from the bottom of the door, tracing her every step, but I was too afraid to see beyond the safety of my room. I felt like the walls were getting crushed by the colossal weight of that mountain; but still all I could do was linger there, scared to death. I heard her a third time but only this time it was echoed my father. “What’s wrong?”, he said trying to force the last bit of breath he had out of him.