driven away from the airport by a cousin of my mom who has lived here most of We’re his life. That fact is apparent when he begins to speak in a slight accent: almost “We’re there.” He assures us. apologize in advance for the size of the basement, not the most—“ he “I it’s finish before mom cuts him off. doesn’t you so grateful to have somewhere to she “Are joking? Don’t apologize, we’re stay!” states. I tell if she means it or if just Egyptian kindness. can’t it’s When we get there, I see it certainly the most Our home for now was a anything. isn’t basement made up of a small living room, a narrow hallway with a kitchen, a single bedroom, and a bathroom beside it. It was about half the size of our apartment building; but sure I’m I’ll get used to it. My cousin and his family had already supplied us with two mattresses, a mom’s living room set, and some food in the fridge. As they finish moving suitcases in I sit on one of the couches and take out the art kit my aunt gave me out of my backpack. I draw the landing scene quickly with some colored pencils before I forget it. I spent the summer meeting relatives that live here in New Jersey and getting acquainted with people from our new church in Jersey City. My dad landed a job as a security officer for some shipping company working all night for five days a week, and my mom got a job as a middle school lunch lady. enough to supply us with our needs but not quite enough to move It’s to our own apartment yet. Before I know it the last weekend before school. my mom repeats what it’s “Remember,” I had been told by numerous adults at ok if you understand everything or you church, “it’s don’t do well on the first day- or even the first month. No probably meant don’t immigrant does.” It’s to be encouraging but I am actually beginning to worry. I could already see going to be a it’s difficult journey to get my grades where I wanted them.
We’re driven away from the airport by a cousin of my mom who has lived here most of his life. That fact is apparent when he begins to speak in a slight accent: “We’re almost there.” He assures us. “I apologize in advance for the size of the basement, it’s not the most—“ he doesn’t finish before mom cuts him off. “Are you joking? Don’t apologize, we’re so grateful to have somewhere to stay!” she states. I can’t tell if she means it or if it’s just Egyptian kindness. When we get there, I see it certainly isn’t the most anything. Our home for now was a basement made up of a small living room, a narrow hallway with a kitchen, a single bedroom, and a bathroom beside it. It was about half the size of our apartment building; but I’m sure I’ll get used to it. My mom’s cousin and his family had already supplied us with two mattresses, a living room set, and some food in the fridge. As they finish moving suitcases in I sit on one of the couches and take out the art kit my aunt gave me out of my backpack. I draw the landing scene quickly with some colored pencils before I forget it. I spent the summer meeting relatives that live here in New Jersey and getting acquainted with people from our new church in Jersey City. My dad landed a job as a security officer for some shipping company working all night for five days a week, and my mom got a job as a middle school lunch lady. It’s enough to supply us with our needs but not quite enough to move to our own apartment yet. Before I know it it’s the last weekend before school. “Remember,” my mom repeats what I had been told by numerous adults at church, “it’s ok if you don’t understand everything or you don’t do well on the first day- or even the first month. No immigrant does.” It’s probably meant to be encouraging but I am actually beginning to worry. I could already see it’s going to be a difficult journey to get my grades where I wanted them.