Essay about My Memories Of My First House

802 Words Sep 27th, 2015 4 Pages
“Mom, why did we move to America?” my stressed, crying sixteen-year-old self asked. I wished to move back to Korea. My mother gave me a look of sorrow, one that told me that I did not understand the world the way that she did.
Anger and bitterness were prevalent as I grew up in the United States after having moved from South Korea at the age of four. As a child, my earliest memory is of my family pulling up to our first house in America. It wasn’t much, but being the toddler I was, I was excited to be in a new place—to meet new people and make some new friends. However, I quickly realized that my lack of knowledge about both the country and the language was a detriment to my time here. When I ran out to the cul-de-sac to ask the neighborhood kids if I could play with them, they stared at me as though I was an alien because they couldn’t understand what it was that I was saying. I didn’t leave the house for months after that.
However, I am eternally grateful for this experience. I am also grateful for the fact that children pick up languages faster than those who are older. I spent much time indoors reading books and watching TV, doing anything I could to absorb the language that had come to surround me so that I could communicate. Because of this, through the months that I contained myself in my home, I was able to learn enough English to communicate with the kids in the cul-de-sac. Not only that, but I had also acquired a love for reading.
As years went by, I worked…

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