Like So Many Feathers In An Eagles Wings :: Personal Narrative Immigration America Papers

Like So Many Feathers In An Eagle's Wings My life as an American didn't really begin until I was five years old, had caught a fever, and almost died. About a week before, my parents had decided to clean out our small cottage home in Thatcham, England, and put our few lovely possessions into boxes stamped for America. My father had accepted a job in Indianapolis, which meant that my parents, sister, and I would be the first and only of our family to become American immigrants. Our relatives simply couldn't understand it, and to be quite honest, at the time neither could I. They thought my parents irresponsible for wanting to take my sister and me away from all we knew and all that could ever love us. "All for what?" They would protest. "To chase some silly dream? To call yourselves American?" I was young. I was confused and couldn't understand. I even thought my parents were selfish. Then began a time of heart wrenched good-byes, which in my case occurred while clasped between my nanny's large pale hands and soft chest. I didn't really know that I was about to be torn from her and that the rest of my life would be spent wanting to belong. I only knew that something horrible was about to happen, and I didn't want to face it alone. She said, "You be a good lad. Be brave, my sunshine. Don't you go forgetting your old Nan." My mother walked my sister and me out of her bungalow. As we climbed into the car, I could hear Nan let the tears flow. " Goodbye, my darlings," and as though Granddad had not died last spring, "Don't let them take my grandbabies, George." It was then that I realized I might never see my nanny again. I did what I promised my mother I would not. I cried. I had no previous knowledge of America, only what I had heard from Blaine Sutton. He lived next door, and said his armies of toy soldiers were blue because they were American Yanks.