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Personal Narrative: My Life As An Immigrant

583 Words3 Pages

One, two, three, four, five, there's too much too count. As we drove through the street of what is called the state of California, I looked out the window and I was amazed at how many cars there were. I sat back down properly in my seat and felt the leather on the seat like it was a new spectacle. I've ridden in a car once before back my home country but never one that was this nice. I looked over to my mom as she flashes a smile but I can feel that she is nervous about something. After a while, we reached our destination and the taxi driver helped us load our luggage off the taxi. My dad helped me with my luggage and was about to walk into the house when the taxi man called him back and spoke in an irritated voice like he was asking for something. My mom nudged his arm and pointed at his wallet. My dad noticed and smiled awkwardly as he dug his wallet out from his pocket and paid the taxi man. The taxi man snatched the money, spitted on the side walk and he mumbled from what I could hear, "Stupid immigrants.” I didn't know what it meant but I could tell he spoke in an angry tone. …show more content…

I was expecting warm welcoming but even in the first week, my grandparents started giving us chores and my uncle would always yell at us even for the little mistakes we made. I also experienced countless nights of hunger due to food differences and no matter how much socks I topped onto my feet, I could still feel the freezing

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