"What do you do when you're not working?" he asks Khadije.
"I watch DVDs and cook." Khadije says.
"You cook for whom?"
"My cousins. I cook for everybody. They don't do anything. I have to do all the cooking," Khadije says again with a rich accent.
I listen to them talk for a few more minutes. They too left their countries. They too wanted the American dream. Maybe not Hollywood and fame, but a full-time job and a guarantee to freedom.
"My life is in my country," I hear Khadije say.
I feel bad for her. I want to tell her, I know what you mean. Although I built a life here at an early age, I still feel that I understand her, that I feel the pain in her voice.
Sometimes we have to give up the things we love, the things we think are permanent. We have to make sacrifices. We have to be strong. Khadije, just like many other immigrants here, will eventually get used to her new life. She won't forget what she lost, but she will know that it was for the best. She will know that it was worth it. She will know.
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Khadije
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This page contains a single entry from the blog posted on February 18, 2006 3:53 PM.
The previous post in this blog was Afraid of what I won't miss.
The next post in this blog is Away.
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Comments (1)
no
i disagree.....
it's not always for the best!!
Posted by swati | February 18, 2006 4:24 PM
Posted on February 18, 2006 16:24