My Trip to America
My Fathers Journey To America.
The plane was taking off. Gravity pulled me lean on the back of the seat. Seeing the trees, roads, cars and buildings became more and more blurry in my sight, I felt my brain was blank. "Hey, I'm really going to leave tomorrow…" I called my best friend the night before I left. "Don't forget to swim across the Pacific Ocean to visit me." She said after the long silence. Yes, for me at that time, America was truly just Hollywood and Disneyland on the other side of the Pacific Ocean. But soon enough, I would find out the real America by myself.
Before I knew, I was already breathing the air of San Francisco, my first stop. The Hip-Hop music coming from the radio was really loud, and people were trotting. I could even feel the fast beat of that city in the car. Something was not in that rush though — the pigeons. They were taking a walk leisurely on the street, did not afraid of people, as though if the hurry did not belong to them at all. That scene was never to be seen in my country.
When the last piece of furniture was moved into my apartment, my dad signed: "we have a home in America now."
"chicago il." In the first summer, I used to touch the unacquainted address on the envelope every time we got letters, practiced to recite telephone number and close my eyes to feel the wind. So my new life just had begun unconsciously.
Almost nothing fitted what I imagined about the High School. Because it was a lot better than what I supposed. I thought I would be lonely, no one would talk to me, but actually at the end of the first of school, I already had known someone who I could consider as friend. Things were indeed not easy though. I held the map of the school building, and finally found my way to classroom after asking three people for direction. Teachers were nothing like the strict teacher in China, they were patient and funny. They were willing to be students' friends. I used to say, "Sorry, my English is very bad." at the
The plane was taking off. Gravity pulled me lean on the back of the seat. Seeing the trees, roads, cars and buildings became more and more blurry in my sight, I felt my brain was blank. "Hey, I'm really going to leave tomorrow…" I called my best friend the night before I left. "Don't forget to swim across the Pacific Ocean to visit me." She said after the long silence. Yes, for me at that time, America was truly just Hollywood and Disneyland on the other side of the Pacific Ocean. But soon enough, I would find out the real America by myself.
Before I knew, I was already breathing the air of San Francisco, my first stop. The Hip-Hop music coming from the radio was really loud, and people were trotting. I could even feel the fast beat of that city in the car. Something was not in that rush though — the pigeons. They were taking a walk leisurely on the street, did not afraid of people, as though if the hurry did not belong to them at all. That scene was never to be seen in my country.
When the last piece of furniture was moved into my apartment, my dad signed: "we have a home in America now."
"chicago il." In the first summer, I used to touch the unacquainted address on the envelope every time we got letters, practiced to recite telephone number and close my eyes to feel the wind. So my new life just had begun unconsciously.
Almost nothing fitted what I imagined about the High School. Because it was a lot better than what I supposed. I thought I would be lonely, no one would talk to me, but actually at the end of the first of school, I already had known someone who I could consider as friend. Things were indeed not easy though. I held the map of the school building, and finally found my way to classroom after asking three people for direction. Teachers were nothing like the strict teacher in China, they were patient and funny. They were willing to be students' friends. I used to say, "Sorry, my English is very bad." at the