Personal Narrative: Moving To The US

Words: 518
Pages: 3

“You can always leave the country; you just won’t be able to come back.” I was eleven years old, sitting in my kitchen when my dad told me the truth about my life. At the time I didn’t understand why he said it. Later on, it hit me: we are undocumented.
I was one when my parents decided to leave Ecuador and move to the United States. They wanted to escape the severe economic crisis there and have a better shot at a stable life. We weren’t able to bring much with us during the journey, and my parents and I spent our first couple of years scraping by. My parents found work in a warehouse nearby in shipping and receiving. My father left the house at 5:30 AM every morning and would work until 3:00 PM. Then my mother would take me to the bus stop, where we would wait for my father so she could hand me off to him and then board the bus for her shift from 4:00 PM until 11:00 PM.
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I was the only one fluent in both English and Spanish for a large part of my childhood, so I was, and still am, the “behind the scenes” guardian. When my littlest sister had a fever, I had to call the doctor and then go along to the appointment to translate the diagnosis. When my middle sister was having trouble with geometry, I emailed the teacher to ask for study strategies. I even help plan my sister’s playdates with friends.
My parents raised me to believe that anything is possible if I work hard for it. When DACA was passed in 2012, it gave me great hope; my family’s sacrifices would indeed bring me the stable life they were seeking when we fled Ecuador. I was able to get a driver’s license and a job, but more importantly, the promise of a great