My First Memory In America

My first memory of being in America was the sight of my mother’s face which I haven’t seen in two years. The funny thing is that I didn’t even recognize her face because, I was too young to remember her face and when I thought of mom I only thought of my aunt and my grandmother who took care of me in Africa. I mean of course I knew that none of them were my mother because, I use to talk on the phone with my real mom all the time but, I only knew her voice and there was a faint image of how my mom looked at first but, it all faded away in time. Soon enough I created my own image of my mother through my childish imagination; my two sister and I were both fairly dark skinned so I assumed my mother would also be dark skinned. Since I only really …show more content…
So buy the time my sisters and I came from Africa in 2006 I barely remembered anything about life in America before including the face of my mother. I remember sitting in the car after my dad had picked me up for JFK Airport in New York and the only thing I could think of was how my mother looked and what she was like. At the time I didn’t speak any english at the time so I asked my dad “ mommy kha” which means where is mom in Soninke which was my first language. He responded by saying “ Afie ka” which means she is home and I couldn’t wait till I got home to see my mother. We lived in a row house so the doors of the houses were right next to each other so when we got there they were to doors one was closed and the other was a light skinned lady who looked almost white in the shining light of the bright sun smiling straight at and I didn’t know her so I went straight to the house on the left and knocked on the door. Then, the light skinned lady stared at me and said my name so I then knew I went to the wrong door. Not only did after my sister called the light skin lady mommy did I realize that was my mother. That Light skinned lady was nothing like what I had imagined my mother to be, in fact she was the complete opposite. Instead of being dark skinned like I thought she was light skinned and she looked like my aunt or my grandmother so every image I ever had of mom had gone away. That moment where I saw my mother for the first time will be my first American memory and my greatest childhood