This is a picture of my mother with her family when she lived in her home country of Bangladesh. When my mother lived in her village of Colotia, she, to say the least, lived rather well. Our family was filled with political leaders of the country, so they could afford to live life well. As you can see, everyone wore nice clothes and lived in a nice house, and they generally looked happy, but my mother gave all of that up for her children She traveled to America to give us a better life. She had figured that growing up in a third world country with a target painted on your back wasn’t too good of an idea; as a result, my mother and father had bought two plane tickets and flew to America. They had nothing to say about that flight as they say it was boring and long, but that flight was when she left everything behind for us. She left the nice clothes, the nice house, and the pseudo-stable family. Every time I look at this picture, I think of everything she left behind and the struggles she faced in America. Then I try to hug her as she is cooking and get yelled at for being dumb.
 

– Sabiq K.

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant