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My River Towards Home - Sarah Royce Imitation Paper

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My River Towards Home Sarah Royce Imitation Paper At the end of the fourth week of September, 2004, I began my day with a phone call from my mother. Nearly two weeks earlier, I had bidden farewell to my parents and all my friends in Indonesia, and began living in Boston University in Boston, Massachusetts. The morning of the phone call from my mother was not very bright, nor was it very gloomy. We spoke of my well-being, the progress of my classes, and the weather. Although our conversation was engulfed by the sounds of the rain outside, it did not wash away my overwhelming nostalgia, my longing for home. After eighteen prosperous years in my homeland, Indonesia, I had only recently, for the very first time, moved across continents, countries, and miles of distance to my present destination. The journey to a foreign, unfamiliar land had awoken a part of me that was not yet conscious to my senses, a sense of longing and appreciation for home. Had I not made up my mind to encounter many storms in this great transition of my independency? If I had to pursue university, let me go when I please and meet whomever I please, bravely and willingly. ...read more.


The next morning I was awakened by the sound of a garbage truck that trailed along the street adjacent to the windows of the room, its jeering and almost irritating sound interrupted the silence of my sleepy state of mind. I awoke still in my party clothes, and with my camera and phone still by my side, between what looked like four and five o'clock, since it was still heavily dark outside, with barely a hint of light. GP, whom I was extremely grateful for still being there with me, slept soundlessly, despite the noisy racket outside, on a nearby couch situated perpendicularly to mine. Alex, too, was still asleep, curled up in a tiny fetal position amongst the pillows laid out across the floor. The knowledge of having my friends still with me comforted me, as it erased any chances of facing the humiliation and discomfort of staying in someone else's home without any proper invitation. I lay there for a short while to decide on what to do. To stay would mean to go back to sleep and awake within a few hours. To leave would mean to find my way home, alone. Regardless of how much I longed to continue to sleep, within the few minutes of pondering, it appeared necessary to leave the apartment and return back to my dorm. ...read more.


The Charles River that separated Boston and Cambridge appeared long and wide, serene, continuous and forever flowing. But what is behind this fa´┐Żade of great natural perfection? What is concealed beneath the surface of this mass of water? Could there be a great depth of underlying, unknown qualities, hidden wonders, or even troublesome undercurrents? At once, the river appeared to be rather solitary, alienated and inconsistent to its city surroundings, very much like myself. This notion commenced an illumination upon my own journey to this foreign land. During my lengthy gaze upon the wondrous river, I concluded that, like the river, my journey ahead shall possess qualities that may only occur beneath the surface, with undercurrents, some stormy, others tranquil. But like the lone river, my journey will possess layers of development and growth, with grace and fortitude, and shall nonetheless persevere through streams of adversity towards oceans of opportunity. The direct association with the river cascaded a wave of encouragement and allowed me to reconcile my feelings of nostalgia with an ever-growing desire to adapt to my new home. My life since then has rolled on, not only for the day of which I was speaking, but also for the several weeks since. My new home at Boston University has rallied numerous shocks to me, but now I am smiling as I incessantly swim along my river of fresh currents. ...read more.

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