I had my money in the pocket of my worn out jeans. I only had 2 pairs of jeans. Clothes were expensive and with a monthly income of less than 500 shekels (250 dollars) and helping my dad out with the rent, well let's just say I should be glad I even have 2 pairs of pants. Waiting at the bus stop I thought about the look on my dad's face when he would come to wake me up in the morning and find my note. At this point, I didn't care. I would do anything not to go back to selling souvenirs in the middle of Ram Allah. Palestine wasn't the best place to live. The culture was different, the people were very old fashioned, and religion was one of their main focuses. I wanted to be free. I finally got on the bus and headed for the pier. I'd been saving up money since I was seventeen. I knew a day like this would come soon. I bought a ticket for the boat. There weren't many people their only a couple families. No one really believed in the American Dream. Most Palestinians were afraid of even considering it. The families that did leave were brave but looked down upon. It wasn't easy for me you know? Leaving my parents and my little brother. One day I'll come back for them just like I promised in my letter. It would take 30 days to reach America.
The first fifteen days were pretty relaxing. They definitely beat waking up at 5am every morning to get a good spot to lay your souvenirs out in the city. The sound of the waves was relaxing.