We were visiting my grandparents in Carmel to go Christmas shopping at Macy’s. In the window, three small, detailed Christmas dresses were hung on the sale rack, so my mother bought them without us even trying them on. Later that day we flew back to Sun Valley, Idaho, our newer home that we moved to from California in time for Christmas Eve. When we arrived, our tree was already decorated, stockings were hung, and ribbons and holly decorated the lights against our walls. My mom clothed us in our new dresses for a Christmas party. We hated them because they were all the same, and we wished to be unique individuals. Soon enough, guests came and greeted us. I was five at the time, Sawyer four, and Carson seven. Whenever I think of this memory, I remember eating sugar cookies, sitting by the fire with my sisters, and being pulled over by my father to take a photo by the tree. I look back on this and think about the dresses that our mother made us wear. Although we didn't like them at the time, now I think they made us closer. It made me feel like I was a part of a team. Those matching dresses were a huge part of my identity. It took me a couple of years to realize it, but being categorized together made me feel confident. Now my older sister is off to boarding school, and I am about to become a high schooler, leaving my youngest sibling in middle school. Time has distanced us, but moments like those continue to assure me that our group will never branch off too far. 

– C

Relationship:  Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more Great-grandchild of im/migrant or more