I loved going to my mother’s office. There was something about getting up before dawn on a day where I didn’t have school and the anticipation of the train ride that made me love it so much. Seeing the larger than life buildings and masses of people, and smelling the oh-so-wonderful subway station smell we all know too well, was all part of my mother’s world that was foreign to me when I was a child.
My favorite part about these city trips with my mother was always looking out the window at the other huge buildings, the tiny taxis that resembled my brother’s toy cars, and the Statue of Liberty. She works on the 36th floor of a building on Wall Street, so to my 8-year old self, it was as though I was looking down from the highest building. It was astounding to think that my mother saw this every day. I asked her about it, but she replied saying that she never noticed it that often. I didn’t understand how she didn’t, it was just so amazing to me at that age.
The Statue of Liberty was something I knew about from school. I knew that it used to be copper, but turned green because of oxidation. I knew that the tablet the woman held had the date July 4, 1776 inscribed. I knew that it was a gift from France. I knew that it was a symbol of freedom and opportunity for many immigrants back in our nation’s history. I knew from television that it was a famous attraction, like the Empire State Building.
I visit my mother every week at work, and I don’t remember the last time I ran to the window and clung to the windowsill to peek at the Statue of Liberty. I live steps from the Empire State building, but I don’t know when the last time I really looked at it or gave it much thought. I’ve never visited either, and I don’t want to. However, thinking back on all those times staring at the Statue, and hearing the history of it in school, I can’t help but imagine myself staring at the Statue from the deck of a boat, after weeks of traveling from my home, about to enter a foreign country instead of a window, holding a hot chocolate from Dunkin’ Donuts.
Thinking about all those people, who sacrificed so much, I feel incredibly fortunate. Even my grandparents, who came to America much later, sacrificed a lot when they moved to America, just so my parents, my siblings and I and our potential children would have a better life. If they could do something as bold as move to a country with little English and money, I know I can do that too. I can make them proud of me, and their obstacles worth it.
The Statue reminds me of all the hardships those immigrants endured, but also the diversity of the population, and how everyone I meet has a different ethnic background, and story. There are few places in the world where so many cultures from all over the world are seen, and I am so lucky to live in one of them.
Many of the immigrants faced discrimination and rejection, but remained hopeful for the future. That Statue was their beacon of hope, and over time its symbolism has dwindled, but its history remains the same and holds the legacy of thousands. The Statue of Liberty doesn’t mean the same as it did, it has become a mere tourist attraction, but it still holds a special place in my heart.
