My grandfather came to America back in the 1960’s from Hong Kong in hopes of working hard enough in order to bring his whole family over including his newborn son, my father, who he would not meet until 12 years later. He worked in restaurants, laundromats, whatever he could do to get his family over before Hong Kong was given back to China. He built a home from nothing in Malden where my father and aunt grew up as one of the many first Asian families to make their start. I would go there after school, my grandparents picking me up in Peabody to drive us all the way back to Malden to care for us until my parents were able to pick us up. I even stayed in that very home with open arms 2 years ago when trying to make my start on my own. And one day I want to have what my grandparents have, a safe haven, a home.
Now though I feel it’s impossible most days. Prices are up and I’m working 2 jobs just to provide for myself. It’s a dream of mine though to have a place where I can call mine, where I can provide a shelter, where I don’t have to worry about a bad day ruining what little I have. I think of my grandfather and how worn out his body is, how his hands worked tirelessly to get him to where he is. He came to America to provide his family a safe haven, a home. So my piece reflects just that, a dream that pops in after a long workday of my grandfather’s house in Malden. I can can only dream of it though, my “American dream” of safety and security, of a place to call home.