New Horizon Hung Quoc Nguyen

I opened the door, immersing myself in the crisp, chilly air of Portland, Oregon. I had just traversed the vast Pacific Ocean, and I was now in America. How I ended up here, I was not quite sure. All I knew was that I stood there — homesick, uneasy, and overwrought — with my family among the millions of immigrants coming to America; every one of us carrying nothing but a little hope—the hope to attain a better life.

I was brought up in the electrifying, motorbike-filled Ho Chi Minh City, where I spent my childhood venturing through the narrow alleys of my neighborhood, constantly on the search for an adventure. At twelve, I finally found that adventure as my family started our new life in a humble, one-room apartment in Portland, Oregon. Adapting to the new environment was tough. I could remember going home everyday, seeing the worried faces of my parents — worrying about whether food stamps and our savings would be enough for the winter. Desperately, my parents searched everywhere for jobs, but they weren’t hired due to their poor English skills. However, things got better as I became more proficient in English; I soon became the foundation of my family and I was able to translate and handle our financial affairs on behalf of...