November 23, 2025 • By Amagyei Anim • Category: Immigration Story
Mother,
I promised I would not cry the day I left home. I said it confidently, almost proudly, as if strength was something I could simply decide to have. I lied. The tears came quietly, not in the airport like I expected, but later that night when my new room felt too silent, too empty, too far from the world that had shaped me.
This continent is far. The distance is more than the miles between us. It is the gap between the life you knew and the one I am trying to build. It is the space between your warm evening fires and my cold morning commutes. It is the difference between your steady certainty and my trembling attempts to learn everything again from the beginning. Yet every day, your voice finds me. It appears at the edge of my thoughts when I face something difficult. It arrives in the quiet moments like a hand on my shoulder.
I hear you when I cook, reminding me not to rush the stew. I hear you when I worry, repeating the same calm words you used whenever the world felt unsafe while I was growing up. I hear you when I walk into places where I feel unseen. You taught me how to enter a room with dignity even when no one is watching. You taught me that my presence matters whether or not it is celebrated.
Mother, I want to tell you that I am learning. I am learning this new land, its quiet rules, its surprising kindness, and the loneliness that sits between both. I am learning how to make a life without losing myself. But most of all, I am learning how deeply your love travels. It crosses oceans. It crosses fear. It crosses every doubt I have ever carried.
You always said that a child never fully understands a parent until life stretches them in the same direction. I understand now. I see the sacrifices you made, the late nights you stayed awake, the strength you carried without applause. I see how much you gave so I could stand where I now stand. And I see that every dream I chase is built on the foundation you laid with your bare hands.
I miss you. I miss the laughter that rose from the kitchen for no reason. I miss the smell of your spices warming before sunrise. I miss your voice telling me to stop overthinking. But I am holding on. And I am growing. Every challenge makes me a little more like you. Every victory reminds me of the hope you placed in me.
When the day ends and I am tired from the weight of this new world, your voice always returns. It comes softly, gently, reminding me that I am not alone. And somehow that is enough.
Mother, thank you for raising me with courage. Thank you for showing me that love does not fade with distance. Thank you for still finding me at the end of every day.
I will make you proud.
Always,
Your child.
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