Narrative Essay Example about American dream

We’ve all heard stories about the American dream. About how everything gives a hope, opportunity and freedom everywhere you look. Of how people of all race, age, and ethnicity can live in peace and harmony, free of danger. Growing up I believed the very same stories most people heard about this glorious country with concrete jungles, shiny streets, and famous people lurking around. I dreamt of walking the streets of New York and admiring the skyscrapers, while enjoying a lovely lunch at the central perk cafe, which I’ve seen to many times in the episode of friends. The closest I could get to America. Yet, I felt closer to Europe and never thought of actually living in the United States. Therefore my whole life was planned around the idea that one day I would got to live in Europe, study in one of the prestigious universities, and eventually return back home to Georgia to help my people and lead them to the better future through my career and profession. But just like the illusions of the easy American dream my plans for the future were shattered once my family decided to move to the United States. 

Many say that America is a country of dreams and hope, but no one talks about the struggle behind the same inspiring and hopeful words. No one speaks of a struggling parent who’s trying to learn and understand the language his or her son or daughter starts to speak, the way kids start to behave because their friend did something similar, the way they dress, the holidays they celebrate, the amount of times they ask how their grandparents are doing and ect. It’s as if there is a completely different person who looks just like you and thinks differently. The struggle to adjust to the new life and culture while holding on to everything you have been taught your whole life, soon becomes tiring and you start to mold into a new Americanized version of yourself, where you start to celebrate the thanksgiving and halloween , go on spring break, like the idea of having cereal for all of your meals, and deciding that the mac n cheese from the box is better than at home cooked one your mother makes. Watch your parents struggle to make the ends meet, get in the fight with your mother who expects a grade of 10/10 because that’s a grading system she knows but you bring an A and she assumes that A stands for Absent and argues that you missed a class. As time passes you become more and more American and you slowly forget the country you come from. The months turn into years and so does the saying that “I’ll return next year” which I do but not the type of return I believe it to be. After my arrival to the states my parents made sure to make me go back home every summer, speak to me in Georgian so I wouldn’t forget my native language, and make sure that I communicated with other Georgian kids in our Georgian community in Philadelphia where other kids were struggling to keep from speaking English as much as I was. Unlike them I have an advantage of actually being born and raised in Georgia since I know how to read and write, but the kids here ages 10 and 12 are now learning the alphabet, to remember their roots and upbringings. Nevertheless even a Georgian Born such as my self starts using more ENglish words in sentences that creates a mush of sounds that consists of two languages molding together. You start to think before you say something, use more “Ummmm” and “hummm” before translating something or simply just shrugging about what the word means because you simply don’t know the meaning of it in your language, but know the meaning in english.

Growing up in a high middle class family with very traditional backgrounds and famous grandparents, Profesor grandmother who had a PhD and taught English language and Gerogian language arts in the university and an architect-engineer grandfather who built half of the city in which I grew up in, priest father, and police officer mother the expectations and the goals were set very high for my future. Attending private turkish school, being a gymnast from age 2 through 9, music lessons, chess and math olympics, speaking fluent Georgia, Russian, Turkish, and ESL level 5 English are just small fractions of what my childhood was like back home. And transitioning from the active life where everyone knew who I was to somewhere where people didn’t even spoke the language I understood was more of a challenge than I thought it would have been. Till this day I struggle to get adjusted to the life I have now as I sometimes recall the memories I have made over the years back home. The constant battle of choosing between the past and the future. The feeling of loss and nostalgia, as well as excitement and enthusiasm. And let’s not forget the same speech that goes along with every argument, “ The only reason we are here is because we want a better future for you, we had everything back home”.

I still remember the cold night of november 15, 2015 when I said last goodbyes to my family and boarded the flight to Germany which would have laid over to the flight to the United States. The mixed feelings of Happiness, excitement, sadness, fear, and nostalgia all came rushing as I felt the rubber wheels seperating from the cement ground and tilt the wings to the left as we cut through the cold winds of the atmosphere. I was awake through the whole 19 hours of flight as I once again felt the very same wheels touching the soil of the country that was to be my new home and where I was supposed to belong. Taking in the every detail through the long car ride from LAX to the new house was somewhat a blur as I dosed of near the Panorama City and woke up the next morning in my new room. I stayed there for  few weeks until we moved to the new home in New Jersey. Those are the memories I’ll never forget. I’ll never forget my struggling mother as she tried to memories the words and their meanings as she sat in the living room couch by the window and spelled out each word, one by one. I stayed home and helped her out as it was a summer when we moved there, hoping it to be the last one, but soon we moved to Philly and stayed there ever since. Meeting new people, getting new jobs, moving, packing, unpacking, driving, they became a new part of our live as we became accustomed to the new culture and started to Americanize.