My mother sat at the lunch table alone, her arms hurting from carrying her bulky, mangled bag all day long. All the other high school kids sitting around her were chattering and biting into their sandwiches; however, she kept her hunger at bay and decided to read a book instead. No matter how much hunger kept nagging at her mind, she refused to eat. Instead she was saving her money to buy new, popular jeans. Being a shy and carefree person, she wasn't bothered being isolated - however, even she needed those jeans. They weren’t expensive, but my mother grew up poor, and never had the money to buy them. They were her dream and she had to conserve to accomplish it. Her mouth watered from the smell of scrumptious food, but her mind was set on saving, and there was no way she would ever give up.
       

 "They were just jeans, but I knew I had to have them," She let out a hushed giggle that followed with an obscure smile. "I don't even remember if I got those jeans, but I can't forget having to give up lunch, because I never had the money growing up."

My mother grew up submerged in a pool of hardships. Her solemn eyes showed the past, and all the tears that still haven't dried. But through the dark transpired a light. "I always had my parents and grandparents help me. Since we lived together, I could always ask them for help." Her childhood molded her into the woman she is today; a no- nonsense attitude, an iron fist to establish control, and a concealed affectionate side she saves for sad movies and her children. Yet, one event changed her to the core, she described.  "My move to America was a new and different experience for me." Her voice becomes powerful, and fills up with a tone of remembrance. Her eyes bounce from the wedding ring fit snuggly on her finger, to me. "Everything happened here." Compared to Russia, America swarmed with perfect opportunities and freedoms she could only imagine. Once she finally decided to move, her mind was set on the future ahead.

"Independence." She mentioned that the new country was unlike anything she felt before. One major distinction was the fact that her parents weren't there with her anymore. "The separation caused me to mature, and changed me. For the first time, I felt like a grown up, and could make my own choices." My mother realized that she was alone now, and that made things difficult, yet motivating. There was no one to help her and no one to comfort her. During that time, she became more social, reaching out to make new friends. Her youthful, shy attitude was replaced by an outgoing and convivial personality. Her story was an intriguing tale in my eyes. She was the dynamic character who changed from quiet to loud, from blending in to charismatic, dependent to independent. Her change inspired me to reflect on my own "coming of age", and made me wonder what it really was to immigrate. My mother benefited from the experience, but there still were some hardships.
       

English was a giant obstacle; "It was challenging to learn a new language, especially the pronunciation.” Her face shows the dreariness of having to constantly work on her vocabulary and grammar. To this day, it's impossible to escape the occasional mix of Russian and English - or what my family commonly refers to as “Ringlish” - and the awkward silence as she stutters to find the right word.  Fitting in with the crowd proved more difficult than she originally thought, but the challenges slowly cleared. She found herself succumbing to the culture around her, including Blockbuster  movies and music. She would spend some of the brisk Saturday nights at Pink Floyd concerts with my father. "We were so young  and alive".  touring new countries. “I would like to travel, especially to see the rest of Europe - countries like France.” Her lips gave way to a smile, and her face flourished with hope. Aging made her want to explore the world and all of its cryptic secrets. But when asked if she wanted to leave America, she answered with a simple “I’m staying here for good."