Before I was ten years old, I had a rough childhood that no one in the US knows about except my mom. Thinking of it today, all those memories seemed like one of those fiction books from the Goodreads. Those days were my worst yet most meaningful days of my life. I could still remember how I used to walk miles after miles on the dirt road to go to school every single morning at 6:30 A.M.. I could still remember all the pain that went through my little body from all the misplaced rocks and all the countless steps that I had to take with my tiny legs to go to school. Sometimes I hated school so much that I faked sick to avoid it. As much as I hated school, I couldn’t let down the hopes that my family put on me. For them, education was the most important aspect of their lives. So, no matter how difficult our financial situation was, they always made sure that I was able to go to school. Later on, it was not until my mom told me about her childhood and the financial support that I …show more content…
As long as I could remember, grandma had been sick. Her condition was like a flicker of a lightbulb. One moment it might be bright and sunny, but another, it might be dark and unpredictable. In my innocent eyes though, her small body seemed to always reach the sky. So fragile, yet so big and so strong. I could still remember the warmth from Grandma’s big hand holding tightly on my little one, giving me security and courage as we walked through the bamboo forest. At that moment, I promised Grandma that I will make lots and lots of money to buy her a castle, to cure her sickness, and to hire a nanny that will take care of