5 September 2013
It was the night of October 29th 2010 as my mother and I nervously awaited to greet my two older sisters at terminal A, Entrance 3, Finally they’ve made it, planted their feet on American soil. My mother strived so hard to get them here, from our native country Jamaica, and finally they’ve arrived, standing right in front of us. It was extremely surreal. My mother burst out in tears, she glowed with excitement as she wrapped her arms around them never wanting to let go. As the happiness filled her heart, jealousy filled mine. I suddenly felt envy and didn’t want to share. I felt like Cinderella with the evil step sisters. I felt like suddenly, right then and there, I had lost my mother. Not knowing who or what to turn too I found relief in reaching out to my aunt, Misty, to talk about everything that I was feeling. The activity that has been most important in my life is talking to my aunt. Being the only child living with my mother for six years in the United States, it hit me like a bag of rocks when I was told at the age of eleven that I was no longer going to be the youngest child, the baby. It was only my mother and I because my eldest sisters lived in Jamaica. Everything was perfect and in the bling of an eye things had changed. Not only was I no longer the baby, but the baby was a boy! The only boy out of three girls. Although it took a while for me to come around, I did. I loved my little brother more than words could explain and even though things had changed, it was a good change. I was ready to start my new life with my precious baby bother. For years my mother struggled to bring my sisters to the states to live a better life. There were many nights I walked into her room and saw tears falling from her eyes. She never wanted to leave them there but she knew she had too to give them a better life. Finally all her hard work paid off. The papers were filed, the tickets were bought, and the dates were set....
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