On the day we left Haiti, I stood at the door of our house with my suitcase clutched to my chest. I saw my Haitian life already in memories: back to my familiar streets I’d known all my life where I first touched a soccer ball, learned how to fly a kite, and shared laughter with friends. My heart felt so heavy but I also felt a ray of light for a better future.The journey was gentle and smooth for me. We took a flight from Port-au-Prince to Broward County, Florida.When I got off the plane, I felt all kinds of emotions one could imagine. I felt like a kid left behind at a Mall– lost, confused, and unsure of what would come next. We were on our way to Saint Louis. I began exploring exotic places, learning a new language, and adjusting to the new world. Nothing was familiar; the customs, the schools, even the food.There was one thing that kept me connected to home—Haitian food. Almost every Saturday, my mom would cook mayi moulen ak fey in the morning, then in the afternoon griot and diri nwa kole ak pwa, like she did back in Haiti. The smell of fried pork, spicy pikliz filled the air and brought back warm memories of family gatherings and celebrations. No matter how far we are from Haiti, those meals remind me of my Haitian identity. That taste of home gave me strength and comfort on the hardest days of my life. I was determined to succeed. So, I spent hours practicing English, and working hard in school. Through all the challenges resilience helped me adapt to this new world.

– MK.D

Relationship:  Im/migrant who arrived as a child Im/migrant who arrived as a child