My Journey to A New Land 

August 5th, 2013, the day my life changed completely. I had to wake up early, I would say around four in the morning. My mom and her husband woke up first, then it was my turn to wake up and get ready. It was close to five o’clock when my little brother had to wake up and make his way to the bathroom. Around five thirty in the morning we found ourselves at the door of our house with nine suitcases, and the moment we had been waiting for finally arrived. My transition to the United States was not easy, on the day of my travel I lived through emotions and moments that led me to appreciate my loved ones more, persevere in life, and live life at its fullest. 

That morning was cold, and to me, it just felt odd. At five forty my old school bus arrived in front of my house, my mom had hired the driver to take us to the airport since we had so many suitcases. That early in the morning I found myself already saying goodbye to people I loved. My nanny who had been with us since I was eight was the first person we had to leave. It was heartbreaking leaving the only person who knew my family and everything we went through. After saying our goodbyes, we headed to the airport. We drove by the same route the bus had to take every morning at six thirty to get me to school. Usually waking up that early was tiring, but my best friend had the same school bus as me, so we would both lay down in the back seats and sleep until we were dropped off at seven. We made it to the airport by seven fifteen, and since we had to take a flight to the capital our check-in was not that rigorous. At eight we boarded our plane, and the next thing I remember is getting off the plane at nine twenty, we had made it to Bogota.  

My family consisted of my mother, her husband, my little brother and me. We lived in a city far from the rest of our family, about an eight-hour drive. By the time we arrived at Bogota we had many family members waiting for us at the airport. I personally had never felt a great connection with my family, since I did not live with them or share part of my life near them, I did not have memories of them. At Bogota, we had a four-hour layover, and our family decided to spend that time with us. I remember seeing my grandmother cry so much, I thought that was unbelievable since I thought of my grandmother as being this old, grumpy, not very nice lady. While all our family members were talking to my mother and to themselves, my cousin decided to go for some coffee, and I asked to tag along. At the coffee store, I saw a magazine, it was written in English, my cousin noticed me glancing over it and he decided to buy it for me. He knew I was not skilled in the English language at all. After paying for the magazine and coffee, we were making our way back to the waiting room and he suddenly stopped, he turned and graved the magazine from my hand. He did not know what the magazine said either, but he recognized the couple that was in the cover, Michelle and Barack Obama. He looked down at me and said “muchos quisieran la oportunidad que tu tienes, lucha por tus suenos y abre un camino nuevo para la proxima generacion de nuestra familia” — “many would want the opportunity you have been given, fight for your dreams and open up a new path for the future generation in our family”. He then went on to jokingly say he wanted me to translate the whole magazine for him when I went back. We went back to our family. 

At one thirty we heard the voice in the speaker announcing the passenger of our flight to start making their way to security and immigration. While saying goodbye, I realized how much time I missed not being able to spend with my family members while I lived there. I hugged every single one of them as if I was never going to see them again. We then started to walk away and the last thing I remember is my uncles hugging my grandmother and comforting her while my family and I disappeared through a glass wall. After a long process of two hours at security, we were conducted to the other waiting room, right outside the boarding tunnel that leads to the plane. Those last twenty minutes I spent inland were the hardest, everything started to come back at me, every memory with my nanny, my best friend, my classmates and teachers at school, I was going to miss that. We were then called again by our ticket number, and then we were walking to our seats on the airplane. I sat next to the window, made myself comfortable, and left the magazine on the seat pocket in front of me. After the takeoff, I fell asleep and woke up at eight and all I could see was the New York skyline, it was then, the most beautiful view I had seen. 

That night, leaving the airport at eleven thirty, breathing the summer air, was the most satisfying feeling I have had. My mother was just as scared as I was, but we held on to each other and promised to be each other’s motivation and company. After a long day of laughter’s, lots of crying, ups and downs, my family and I started a new life. Nowadays, we have a strong family bond, we celebrate each other’s successes, but most importantly, we support and remind one another to do what makes them happy.  

Identity Narrative Self-Reflection 

Writing an identity narrative was harder than I thought it would be. To begin with, I was not even worried about my audience yet, I was only brainstorming ideas on what to write. However, even that simple task took me at least a couple of hours to finally decide on my specific experience. To find a topic on which I wanted to write about I made a list of specific situations in my life and then I started to write some details on each one. I then started to eliminate those situations that were very personal, and I would not like to share or touch on with no one else. Writing this second narrative was much easier than writing the first one. As soon as I started to write all the ideas and facts came to my head I would just write them down. Once I thought I was done witting all these ideas, I re-read my essay and changed some sentences in order to have good transition and engagement with my story. 

While writing the first draft of my essay, I was not too focused on how I was structuring it. However, I believe my second essay implements all rhetorical terms. The genre of my essay is a narrative and a self-reflection of a past experience that changed my life, literally. The exigence was for me to tell my audience how the day of my move to the United States had a big impact on the way I see and appreciate life as well as others. The purpose of my essay was to tell a narrative and let my audience know the world is bigger than what our eyes can see. Some people might take for granted all those times they get to share with their loved ones or enjoy a beautiful view. The truth is, once you are losing what you had, is when you realize everything you took for granted. I also think I have considered my audience wisely. At the beginning of my essay, I gave enough information and details for my audience to be able to fully understand my story. Also, I intended my audience to be young adults, and I’ll like to believe I have done so by bringing on a topic that many teenagers, either immigrant or not, could relate to. 

When it comes to the course learning outcomes, I think I have beneficiated from this writing experience. At the beginning of the class, we were able to read and analyze different short stories made by empowered women. Each one of these readings were written in a different format, but they all shared a story that captivated the audience’s attention. In class, I was able to receive peer review and constructive criticism. However, that feedback was only for my first essay attempt; therefore, I wrote my second essay based on the professor’s criticism.

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