First to USA, an American family offered me a place to live. In this family, there are mother, father, and two kids: Taylor and Shelby. For the first time, I had a unfit brother and a little sister.
However, after a charm it became difficult to recover they are my sister and brother, not because they piddle blond hair and blue eyes, or the difference in our flesh and blood. The culture divergence was deeply rooted in our hearts: I take pleasure in Chinese traditional music, they enjoy watching hip-hop dances. I think rice and dumpling are delicious, they favor steak and chicken. I ordain feel embarrassed hugging and saying, “I love you”, exclusively they take it as greeting.
The culture collision soon inflamed series of conflicts. They were irritated when I left empty draw bottle upstairs , angry when I forgot to put the potbelly seat down, and complained when I ordered lobster in a eatery called “Red lobster”.
Occasionally, we quarreled, about trivial details of life much(prenominal) as which route to school or which TV point to watch.
As time passed, the gap between us grew bigger. We rarely talked. I felt like we were strangers that live under aforementioned(prenominal) roof. Nostalgia, loneliness, and helplessness, struck me one after another. Eventually, I takeed to give-up the ghost up, to go back to China, go back to the harbor of my parents’ love. yet then, a winter afternoon, something changed.
It was a snowing day, the sky was dark and empty, and the trees were bare and lonely. I lay motionless on the bed. I was in one of those mood, tiredness and tedious blured together, like some fall apart of half dreaming. Suddenly, rapid footsteps grasped my attention. I awaited the daily rituals of...If you want to get a full essay, order it on our website: Orderessay
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