So many immigrants before me; did they all feel the same? The mix of emotions is overwhelming.
I love my husband; I love being his wife, but this move is scary. I am excited to be here, but I am also worried.
Will I be welcomed here? Will I fit in?
I hope I can make friends. I need to learn the language fast; they don’t know mine.
I am scared, not sure what to expect.
My new home, my new life -there is so much to learn.
“Nice to meet you Miss Liberty! I heard great things about you.”
This 100-word challenge catapulted me back in time. It was fun to write about it -as always- but it also made me a little sad, because I realize how much things have changed.
Anyhow, this is my entry to this week’s Friday Fictioneers. The 100-word challenge is hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. It is great fun. Click <<<here>>> and the magic online carpet will transport you.
A relatable set of worries! Thanks for sharing your feelings and your story!
Dear Happy Quitter,
I can imagine these thoughts would go through someone’s head. Nicely captured.
Shalom,
Rochelle
This is at the same time very personal, and also universal. Similar thoughts would go through the heads of many who are forced to leave their homes. If only all could meet a Miss Liberty. Good story.
Thank you! It brought back memories.
A very personal touch to the prompt. Nicely done.
Thank you Trent
Change and new surroundings can be so daunting, especially when you don’t speak the language. Nice piece
So true. This challenge throw me back in time. 🙂
Wouldn’t it be lovely if “nice to meet you” was what people said these days, instead of viewing each other with dark suspicion. Well done.
Thank you Sandra!
I’m sure you feel both anticipation and fear at the same time…
It happened to long ago, but I do remember the whirlwind of emotions.
I think ask myself those questions.
I still not think.
I can imagine the excitement and anxiety. I want to believe that the words on the Statue of Liberty are important to the American identity and will ring true again one day.
I saw Miss Liberty years later but still felt overwhelmed by the power of the statue. This part of my story is fiction.
I do remember very well what I felt so many years ago,when I was sitting on plane.
I suppose that’s the reason why I feel the urge to speak up now.