Hey guys! This is my first draft of UC's 1st prompt. I'm planning to continue this essay with prompt 2; make it sound like it belongs with each other when read in order. Well, I hope this essay is okay.
"Grandma, the plane is shaking!" I exclaimed excitedly to my shivering grandmother who held tight to her armrests. "Stop moving around! This is dangerous!" she replied, letting go of an armrest to push me back into my seat. The plane shook again, she retrieved her arm at lightning speed. Worried, I stared at my grandmother's face then looked out the small window. Below are miles and miles of ocean, I could not see land nor boats, and I knew I was far from Roi-et, Thailand, my hometown. I was only seven-year-old then, sitting in a lofty seat in an airplane heading for the United States. I have never traveled out of the country before and felt terrified. The only factor keeping together my anxiety was my father waiting for me at LAX. Then I begun to reflect the colorful memories I had at Thailand.
I was born in a small rural area and lived my seven years in a communal place. There was only one elementary, one secondary school, but numerous acres of rice fields. I remembered racing across the fields barefooted into the muddy mush that squeezed through my toes, and the old farmer that'd always yell at me for ruining his crops. I was adventurous and felt the need to explore every nook and crannies of my town. When the weather was dry, a small festival would be set up and Thai reggae would play loudly over the dried rice fields. At times, my grandmother would travel and allowed me to tag along. I traveled with my grandmother to many cities, some that no one has ever heard of, and some that were tourist hot-spots. During the trip, I would see tourists curiously picking at an exotic item, and felt an inclination to ask them of their country and how they liked Thailand. But before I could ever ask questions, my grandmother would touch my arm, and say, "It's dangerous." Then I would languidly stroll back to join my grandmother's friends. My natural curiosity felt constrained, but I felt safe. My grandmother is friendly and loving, and I knew I had a great guardian. I came back to reality and looked up at my shaking grandmother tightly grappling to the armrests, and felt a warm feeling. Feeling tired and worn out, I slept.
Phshhh... the plane lowered onto the runway after hours of flight, and I awoke. My grandmother's fear was no longer there when she turned and smiled at me. "Ready to step onto America and see your father?" she asked. The daring little girl that I was went into hiding and mustered a shy smile. I realized I felt scared to leave Thailand, and to step onto a new strange land. I hid behind my grandmother's leg often and darted my eyes across the wide lobby searching for my father even though I had no idea how he looked like.
My fear, though, disappeared over time after that day. I moved to Torrance with my family of twelve and went to elementary school knowing not a word of English. I felt fear, but my cousinsthat lived with me encouraged me to be happy. I befriended girls and played with them even though I could not verbally communicate personal thoughts. But slowly, my natural curiosity returned and my spirit was revived. By third grade, I was in the only honors third grade class and skipped fourth grade to enter fifth grade. I earned the award, "First to graduate high school" among many awards and played the violin. I enjoyed the arts and academics, and decided that I want to do the best I could. That same year, I exchanged words with my mother for the first time in a very long time. I adapted to my fear of the United States and begun to love it. The American community gave me colorful memories to remember and to reflect. The world I came from was different from the world I'm living now, but both worlds had become a part of my identity and it had shaped my aspirations and dreams.
Word count:683 679
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"Grandma, the plane is shaking!" I exclaimed excitedly to my shivering grandmother who held tight to her armrests. "Stop moving around! This is dangerous!" she replied, letting go of an armrest to push me back into my seat. The plane shook again, she retrieved her arm at lightning speed. Worried, I stared at my grandmother's face then looked out the small window. Below are miles and miles of ocean, I could not see land nor boats, and I knew I was far from Roi-et, Thailand, my hometown. I was only seven-year-old then, sitting in a lofty seat in an airplane heading for the United States. I have never traveled out of the country before and felt terrified. The only factor keeping together my anxiety was my father waiting for me at LAX. Then I begun to reflect the colorful memories I had at Thailand.
I was born in a small rural area and lived my seven years in a communal place. There was only one elementary, one secondary school, but numerous acres of rice fields. I remembered racing across the fields barefooted into the muddy mush that squeezed through my toes, and the old farmer that'd always yell at me for ruining his crops. I was adventurous and felt the need to explore every nook and crannies of my town. When the weather was dry, a small festival would be set up and Thai reggae would play loudly over the dried rice fields. At times, my grandmother would travel and allowed me to tag along. I traveled with my grandmother to many cities, some that no one has ever heard of, and some that were tourist hot-spots. During the trip, I would see tourists curiously picking at an exotic item, and felt an inclination to ask them of their country and how they liked Thailand. But before I could ever ask questions, my grandmother would touch my arm, and say, "It's dangerous." Then I would languidly stroll back to join my grandmother's friends. My natural curiosity felt constrained, but I felt safe. My grandmother is friendly and loving, and I knew I had a great guardian. I came back to reality and looked up at my shaking grandmother tightly grappling to the armrests, and felt a warm feeling. Feeling tired and worn out, I slept.
Phshhh... the plane lowered onto the runway after hours of flight, and I awoke. My grandmother's fear was no longer there when she turned and smiled at me. "Ready to step onto America and see your father?" she asked. The daring little girl that I was went into hiding and mustered a shy smile. I realized I felt scared to leave Thailand, and to step onto a new strange land. I hid behind my grandmother's leg often and darted my eyes across the wide lobby searching for my father even though I had no idea how he looked like.
My fear, though, disappeared over time after that day. I moved to Torrance with my family of twelve and went to elementary school knowing not a word of English. I felt fear, but my cousins
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