Personal Narrative: A Child Of Immigrants

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Well, I am not strictly speaking a child of immigrants - as in a permanent-basis. The right term would be I guess "expatriates". My parents, like all immigrants and expatriates, are hard-working people and they succeeded in paving their way to the United States after spending their whole life on our homeland.

Not to make their own parents proud. Not only to be satisfied with their achievements. But mostly for us, their children, to have the best education we can get.

A lot of people, including a bunch of our relatives, considered this opportunity as a chance and a blessing. Of course, we get to travel and expand our horizon, we get to meet new people and make friends from around the world, we do things we never imagined we would do in Madagascar (like commuting at 1 AM after a night in town lol). A chance and a blessing, I said. And it is true, don't get me wrong. But one should not only see the brighter side, as great opportunities always imply great sacrifices.
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I am in my early 20s, I had no strings attached when I left my country. I was all about adventures and the deep conviction that the world was mine. Also, I felt that I would not have many options regarding what I wanted to do with my life if I stayed. I did not think twice, I packed my life in two 50 pounds bags and I was gone. Now that I live in Québec, when someone asks me when I consider going home, I like to reply "Which one of my homes

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