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Flying across with the wind, letting it carry me across the vast greenery. The vivid green mustard plants set ablaze with hypnotizing yellow-colored petals from its flowers. I run across the dirt, slipping and having reality smacking me with awake from the daydream, in which I flew with the wind, as I held on to my friend for dear life. We did not stop. We ran and ran, but we could only see the beautiful scenery of green and yellow painted across the land. The leaves would tickle my arms and legs, playing along mischievously.
This is what I remember, from the beginning of my childhood, in Bangladesh. I was born there and spent 6 and half years of my life frolicking amongst the mustard and various vegetable plants. Amongst the clean and clear breeze, the clear waters with all the fish playing what I believed to be hide- and- seek of the fish land. The fish were just as fast to glide across the water, making it jiggle like jelly, as I was in trying to run away from being caught by my friends like a slithering snake.
I that was all left behind, as my family moved. The clean air and peaceful symphony chirps of the birds were traded in for the bustling noise of the buses, cars, taxis and people of the city which never sleeps, New York.
My parents, had left their friends and family, those whose memories brought a dreadful tug inside, where the heart was, and weakened their knees from the pain separation, as tears trickled down like water on windows during the winter days.
All, this was done to provide us and bless us, the children of the future with a better education and chance in life. Though it was not easy, I could not communicate, I felt as if I were watching a foreign movie without subtitles as my new schoolmates spoke. But there were people there to help, a teacher, Mr. Patel, form India who knew exactly what type of place I had left. He helped my reading, writing, pronunciation and all, who I also lost because of the unfortunate heart attack, which grabbed and fought his live away from him.
I am me; I am unique in my own way, in how my childhood has shaped me. I grew up with love, and peace was all around. I have what others do not have, my special childhood memories of the vivid mustard plants.
Though I am able to speak freely, and understand completely, a language which was new to me, I will never forget where I came from to be blessed with this life. I will also, never forget the place where I have come to be who I am today. It is easy to understand I am only me with my life as I know it, in Bangladesh and now here in New York. I am not me, without these two places as my home.
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