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" \n Leaving home for the first time is a big step, especially if you are very close to your family like I am. Although not always the case, many children stay home with their parents until they are given their first real reason to leave. Whether it be they feel they have become too old to live at home, get married or an opportunity arises that is too big to pass up comes about, like a job. We choose to leave the familiarity of our childhood homes because it will better our quality of lives, give us opportunities that we otherwise may never have had if we stayed, About two months ago I moved from Los Angeles out of my parent&amp;#039;s home to across the country to the East Coast to start my dream job. While I know this was the right choice, to accept the position, and make the move, my biggest reservation was fear. How could I leave my family to this foreign place where people were different and I didn&amp;#039;t know anyone? The night I told my parents about the job I cried as I spoke because I knew that I would have to leave them. This job was something that I had worked hard for. This opportunity was something that would better my life, I could not say no. Something that kept crossing my mind during this transition period was as difficult as it would be for me to move across the country, it must have been far more difficult for my mother whom had to leave to her actual country. My mother was 19 years old when she left El Salvador, her family, and immigrated to a foreign land where she couldn&amp;#039;t speak the language. My mother, like myself and other young adults was given a reason to leave her home. Except, she was force to do so to save her life during a time of a horrific civil war that had already claimed the life of her older brother. My mother won&amp;#039;t share the details of her immigration to the United States, understandably because of the circumstances and fashion in which they had to occur. But when I think of what she had to do, as young women during a time where women were disappearing every day, she had to trust complete strangers to transport her across the border. I feel such admiration for her. Strangely enough, knowing that she was able to make her much more difficult journey helped me to push through my fear. I spent my last day in Los Angeles with my mother, during which she used the time to lecture me on everything she possibly could, I suppose because she was worried I would forget because she wouldn&amp;#039;t be around to remind me. My last hour before we were to leave for the airport I because a little girl again, curled up to her while she stroked my head while we lay in silence. The moment in which I had to leave my mother to board my plane she held me the longest, and she made the sign of the cross on my head to keep me safe. I can&amp;#039;t help but imagine my Abuelita did the exact same thing to my mother when she had to let her go. "^^<http://www.w3.org/2001/XMLSchema#string>
<http://www.cosmopolitan.com/lifestyle/advice/a4329/latina-like-me-leaving-mami/?link=rel&dom=yah_life&src=syn&con=art&mag=lat>