Personal Essay: Moving To California

Growing up, I lived a content and carefree lifestyle. My hometown of Montebello, California was quite lovely in my eyes, and I spent most of my youth outdoors, riding bikes along a river and having picnics in lush parks with my family. There were a few bumps in those days that made me question the safety of my neighborhood, such as a shooting on my street and waking up at night to find the blinding spotlight of a helicopter pointed straight behind our apartment, where a criminal had hid, but I couldn’t have been more than seven. My family was always around, and with our playfulness there wasn’t any trouble forgetting the sketchy situations.

The summer after 2nd grade, my parents decided to move to Houston, Texas due to the lower cost of houses there compared to California. At the time, I was devastated, and I couldn’t imagine a life anywhere else. I grew further upset when I learned that my dad would be staying in California. My family was my happiness, my shell, I couldn’t be whole of one of us was missing. But the decision was made, my dad drove us to Texas, dropped us off, and took a plane back to California.

I remember feeling so alien

My mom worked long hours, so we rarely went out anymore. I was often in charge of looking after my sisters, and I’d make up games and stories for them, fueling my creativity. We didn’t have much, and it doesn’t seem like anything special, but those three years of seeing my mom work so intensely to provide for us, of waiting for my dad’s phone calls, and having to take responsibility for my sisters, it all helped me become increasingly mature and independent. My mom became my role model, and I strived to grow up to be like her, so I studied diligently in school and made A’s. I began drawing in my spare time with my sisters, and that was the very start of my passion towards my