Narrative Essay About Moving To America

To invite my parents to visit us was a tedious and tough job. After a few months we moved into our own place, I prepared all documents for them to apply entrance visas to America. My financial affidavit, our visas, my income paper, and bank statements along with an invitation I drafted, I send all of those to Shanghai as a registries letter. Then a long waiting game began.
To get a visa to enter the States wasn't a sure matter. More than 2/3 applicants were rejected for various reasons – no sufficient financial support, or the time the sponsor had not lived in the States long enough, a hint of immigration attempt, all could be a reason to deny to come. Waiting in a long snake-like line was a necessary step to take, and my parents had to endure.

It was just after 1992 New Year. The mild Southern California weather could cheer up for my folks from freezing and damp winter in Shanghai.
Mom had several chronicle illness, including high blood pressure, emphysema and stomach ulcer. I had worrisome if she could take such a hush journey. As usual, she took it lightly. “Mingming,” she wrote in her letter, “I am looking forward to traveling to America. It has been six years since last time I had seen the kids and you. I miss you so much and hope before my death curse from the king of hell, I will be able to spend some time with you.”
We had communicated with letters. Six years was a long time for an old lady. I couldn't imagine how painful my mother must have felt. I blamed myself being not filial plenty. My situation didn't have much flexibility. The reason I didn't visit my parents was it could jeopardize my return back to the States because a re-enter visa wasn't guaranteed. Buried into my responsibility to my children and my job, I had not realized that I left my mother for so long without going to see her.
So wonderful, my parents could come to America, which would be game-changing in their