I was born in Nairobi, Kenya and I immigrated with my two sisters and my parents to Omaha, Nebraska. I was a very young age when we moved. However I know what my family faced during and after the move. My sisters were both fluent in Swahili, and they had to take speech classes to learn English while in school. The rest of my family is in Kenya still, I haven’t seen my Grandpa since Kindergarten. And my Grandma in 2016. This does make communication a lot harder, hearing about what my cousins do, their goals, and hobbies. We never really have true family reunions and have made friends we have met on the way “family”. Every grandparents day, I had not grandparents to bring, while seeing all my friends and everyone around me, spending time with their grandparents, while I was a day away from mine. Being an immigrant is good, until you know your family back home isn’t doing the best. Ever since moving, my grandparents on my dad’s side both passed away, as well as my aunt. And now my grandma has cancer. Immigrating makes you forget about where you came from sometimes, however that is not a way of thinking, you must never forget where you came from.