My object is my family’s photo cube. My mom bought it in America when she first came, it was used to store all of her precious memories from Bangladesh. When my mom bought the photo cube she didn’t have that many photos, there were just photos of my grandparents to remember them and to keep from being homesick. My mom kept the cube above the shelf, often looking at it every now and then until one day my sister brought it down and started to build the heritage behind this object. She added photos of her childhood and photos of my parents. It was as if this was a rubix cube of memories. When I first saw this object I looked into the faces of my smiling parents, now this wasn't a fake smile, no, this was the smile of two immigrant parents knowing they made the right decision coming to America.  I chose this object because it is important and sentimental to my mom. Because she couldn't bring all her personal and precious belongings, especially photos, imagine how my mom was tracing her fingers through all her childhood photos longing for each and every one of them feeling somber as she walked down memory lane. In 1999 when she immigrated to the United States, she took small square photos of my grandparents, carefully tucking them in her suitcase and placing them in her brand new photo cube. 

– AS

Relationship:  Im/migrant Im/migrant