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The Day I Left My Country
One of the difficult days in my whole life
was the day I left my country to come to the United States. I
woke up early that day, November 1, 2001. I packed my backs. I
was supposed to leave the house at 11:00 a.m. All my friends woke
up early too. I guess because they all wanted to come to my house
to see me, to say good-bye and wish me good luck before I left.
I cried when I heard the beautiful things that they thought and
said about me. Some of them also wrote me good-bye letters, which
I read on the plane during the flight.
That was sad, but the worst part was when
I had to say good-bye to my grandmother, a 70-year-old women whom
I grew up with. I couldn’t stop crying and she cried too.
She did not go with us to the airport. I held her tight against
me and said that I loved her so much and she did the same. I still
remember her standing in the dining room, close to the kitchen
doorway. Then she walked form the house door to watch me get into
the car along with my uncle and my brother.
I couldn’t stop crying and looking at
that house that I had seen for 19 years and seeing the sad faces
of people and my friends waving me good-bye. The whole way to
the airport, I could not say a word. I just wanted to escape from
this situation, but I could not.
At the airport, I did all the usual things
you do before a flight. My uncle and my brother helped me with
my luggage. The final moment was coming and I finally said good-bye,
first to my brother, and then to my uncle, who said “good
girl, leaving the best for last.” I tried to laugh, which
was what he was expecting, but I could not. Then he wiped my tears
and said, “Laugh. You are not going to die.” The I
laughed and left to board the plane.
Once I was on the plane, I sat down and cried,
leaning my head against the window and crying, not loudly, but
strongly. I took a pill to sleep and I did so until I arrived
here. Then another story started when my new life began
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