Immigration Essay

I cannot quite describe what I was feeling the day that my mother loaded me onto a large ship on that cold, dark day. England was the only place that I had ever called home. After my father and two younger siblings died, my mother was determined that I would travel to America for a new life. A life that I could never have in England. My young, sixteen year old mind could not quite comprehend the entire reasoning of why my mother wanted to send me away to a place that either of us had ever been. Of course we had all heard the stories of others traveling to America for a better life. I did not want to leave my mother, not right after I had lost the rest of my family. But there I was, alone on that ship, the year of 1895, traveling to a new land for a new life. The only recognizable face was that of another young girl that I knew from our neighborhood. She was two years younger than me but I remember her being friendly to my younger sister when she was alive. It was her that approached me about five days into our journey, introducing herself as Mary. It turns out that she, too, was scared and nervous. I tried to be of comfort, but I do not think that I was able to hide my own trepidations behind my brave façade. We decided that we needed to stick together and it was comforting to have a new friend. The first time I saw her, I was in awe. I had only heard tales of the gigantic, green lady holding a torch high to the sky. It was a beautiful sight. Everyone on the ship was cheering, crying, and hugging each other. I had never really been hugged by a stranger, but it seemed appropriate this time. After all, we were not really strangers at this point, but fellow travelers to a new life. We were all the same really. We all had to leave the only place that we knew. We were all scared and maybe even skeptical. But at that moment, we were all excited about the endless possibilities that could be our future. That feeling quickly vanished once we were exiting the ship onto that small island. I carried everything that I owned as I first stepped foot on that American soil. I followed the masses to a small boat that they called a ferry. This boat brought us to a small island where we were to attempt to enter the United States of America for our new lives. The building that we entered was bigger than any building that I had ever seen in textbooks from school. This was the building that we had to enter to start the process of our new lives. As I entered that big building, I was separated from my new friend, Mary, almost immediately. I quickly scanned the room and realized that because there were so many people, I may never see her again. We both tearfully hugged goodbye and went on our way. I was brought to a large line that led us into a room. I was told that we were going to be inspected for illnesses and afflictions. I watched others in line trying to hide deformities and other sicknesses. I remember sneezing, and a man in front of me turned around and said something to me in a language that I did not understand. The young mother behind me told me he warned that I better not let the people inspecting us hear me sneeze. I was immediately terrified and tried my best to look as healthy as possible. As I entered the room for my inspection, I stood there uncomfortably as the man poked and prodded me for a short moment. He then told me to open my eyes wide and came toward my eyeball with a buttonhook. I was terrified as he flipped my lid up with the sharp metal object. It was painful and tears quickly filled my eyes. He released my lid with a small grunt and gestured towards the door for me to leave. After many hours of waiting in lines, questioning, and many other processes that were necessary, I was lead out of the doors and back into the ferry. I looked around feverishly to see if I could find Mary. She was nowhere to be found. We docked onto land of my new home, New York City, and I began my new life as an American. I moved into a small apartment with four other young girls that did not have any family to live with. Two of the girls were also from England, and the other two were from Poland. The three had been living together for about a year and welcomed me warmly into their home. I had difficulty finding a job, so I took small, odd jobs from other tenants in the apartment building. My mother had taught me to sew, so I was able to make a small amount of money doing alterations and such.
It was not until many months later that I ran into Mary on the streets of New York. We were both very happy to see each other and quickly sat down to catch up on each other’s lives and what had happened since we last saw each other. It turns out that she was detained at the island for many weeks because of an illness that she contracted on the ship over from England. They finally released her once she was better and she had moved into a small apartment with her aunt and uncle and their small five children. She was able to find a good job at her uncle’s garment company, but was ready to move out of the crowded apartment. She had accrued many sewing clients of her own, as had I. We decided to find a small apartment together and started our own garment making company and ran it from our apartment. We were not rich, but we were successful enough to live and have enough money to live and a little extra to send back to our families in England.
A few years later, I met a man and got married shortly after. We started our new life together in a small house outside of the city where he worked in a new factory. We eventually had four children and lived a modest living. We did not have much but we were happy.
I never saw Mary again after I moved out of the city, but I heard that she married a rich man and moved into a large apartment building downtown. I also never saw my mother again. She died about eight years after I traveled across the ocean to America. We wrote each other often and spoke of her making the trip over to join me in America. It never happened. I miss her every day, but soon began to realize the large sacrifice that she made to send her only remaining family to a new life that she would have never been able to give her. I made the effort to remember and think about that daily in my life in America. I had a wonderful, fruitful life. I was so grateful to a loving mother that was selfless enough to provide me that.