Moving Half Way Around the World to Find Home

 "Reetu, we're moving," my mom told me in Punjabi, the language I grew up speaking. "Moving?" I asked. "Where are we moving?? To grandma's house? To Ambala, the next city over?" "Actually we're moving to America, to be with your dad," she answered calmly. "What???" I replied -- shocked at my mother's answer. That was how the conversation went when my mom first told me about our big move. My mom, in her mid-twenties, and I, as a young child, were moving from Haryana, India to the United States of America to live with my dad, who worked there.

This little conversation started it all. We gathered our things, packed only the items we absolutely needed, and said our goodbyes to family and friends. I was no longer going to get to go to my grandparents' house every weekend or play with my cousins and their friends in the village center. Though I was sad about the move, my friends got me excited about it. They told me stories about how great America was and how things were so different there. My friends especially loved the fact that I was moving to New York City, the place every Indian only dreams about going.