A man named Anatole France once
said, “All changes, even the most longed for, have their melancholy; for what
we leave behind us is a part of ourselves; we must die to one life before we
can enter another.” It was quotes like these that pacified my fear of moving to
the United States from my hometown, Vancouver. When my parents sat me down and
explained to me that we would be leaving Vancouver, I was simply dazed. I
didn’t know what to think. I was troubled, for I wasn’t sure if this move was
something to look forward to, or something that would give me more problems
than rewards. Just when I thought I had learned the way to live, my life
changed drastically.
As time
went by and the realization set in, I became torn between the two nagging
thoughts inside my head; to anticipate or to anguish. I was excited for the
fresh start that awaited me there. Nevertheless, I could not bear the fact that
I would no longer be able to take those much loved strolls right by the
shimmering sea just minutes from my house or hiking in the lush green mountains
that stood towering over the city. But I eventually accepted the fact that I
had to leave it in order to start a new chapter of my life. And so, we said
goodbye to the place that we had called home for years and started the 1,300
mile journey to Los Angeles.
After
seven days of driving down from Vancouver, we finally reached our long awaited
destination. The streets of Los Angeles were overwhelmingly different from the
streets that I had grown up in. It was rush hour every hour here; there were so
many people powerwalking down the street, every single one of them looking as
though they had somewhere to be but not enough time to get there. Cars were
bumper to bumper in the streets, blasting their horns impatiently and, on top
of it all, mounds of trash littered the sides of the road. There was such a
variety of everything, from people to cars. I felt as taken aback as the
country mouse that had come to visit the big city.
As the
days dragged on and we finished up unpacking the mountains of boxes piled up to
the ceilings of our house, it came time for me to start middle school. If I had
to sum up the whole mixture of feelings I had in a single word, that word would
be afraid. I was afraid of being the odd one out. I was afraid of being looked
down on and not being received very well. I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able
to be myself. There were so many different things I was fearful of. And to say
the least, getting used to middle school was no picnic. It made me that much
more uneasy coming from a city where middle school didn’t exist. The time to
start school had finally come, and it was an arduous experience for me. I had
left behind all the friends I had made over the past 10 years, and coming to a
whole new place and starting all over again was beyond intimidating. I was
absolutely bewildered by my new surroundings, and I thought that because of my
obvious confusion, I would be rejected by everybody else right off the bat. However,
I was delighted to find that the students were very friendly and welcoming of
the “new girl.” I was glad to feel accepted and realized that this experience
had made me a stronger person.
On a
final note, I’ve got to say that although it was tough to start the journey and
difficult at times throughout it, I finally saw the light at the end of the
tunnel. My trip through the dark tunnel taught me a priceless lesson. I learned
that storms in life can either make you or break you, and deciding to persevere
through tough times can make you a true successor, no matter what the outcome.
After this experience, I am confident that whatever challenges college may
throw at me, I can grit my teeth brave through them. Now I understand that
although change can be scary, it is what makes me grow, and college is one of
the best changes that can happen to me. Through college I can live out my dream
of becoming a doctor, and march down the path of life with my head held high.
