Freedom

Back in Ethiopia, I enjoyed every second of my life. I never felt stressed over anything I could get over my troubles real quick.

When I was broke or needed any kind of hope I could always ask family or friends. They were always there.

I would show up to any friend's house without them fearing I was going to steal anything or that something bad would happen.

Everyone was welcoming and had their doors open. Wouldn't need to make appointments. We all felt safe.

We used to close of our street to play soccer. Sometimes we woke up early before the street got too crowded. We gathered soccer ball sized tracks to close the road so that cars and bicycles wouldn't interrupt our game when we didn't have a soccer ball or it got run over by cars. We made one by wrapping plastic bags and socks together. We played until everyone was fully exhausted. I felt like I owned the street until the police came and kicked us out.

I was excited when we moved out to the US. I thought we'd have the same strong family bonds, friendship and community. But once we got here, it wasn't like that at all. My

parents started not talking to each other. We're always so busy. Sometimes days pass without us having seeing each other. My parents tried to pretend everything was okay, but I could tell they were stressed having a hard time handling living here

where your family falls down, when there is no connection and stuff.

I always say to my parents, if you're not happy, there is no reason to stay here. We should just go back home.

They say there is no freedom in Ethiopia.

But how are we any more free here? It's only when you have mental freedom that you can have physical freedom.