The Book of Literary H'Enjoyment.

T is for The Immigrant.

Hey guys! This is a joint oneshot written by one of my great friends and I. Her name is Seyna _jimeyna . Follow her and check out her books as well. This is only the first part written by me, the second part written by Seyna would be up in a few days! I hope you enjoy our work ❤️

1984.

Jimin stares at the blue house intently. The house that his parents moved into three months after wedlock. The house that he and his little brother Minhyung were conceived in. The house that he broke his nose in while struggling with Minhyung over an ice lolly. The same house that he and his family were moving out of today.

It held so many dear and cherished memories, and it hurt the innermost parts of his soul to leave it — to leave this street that he often ran up and down its length, and rode the rusty little bicycle with Minhyung on a hot summer's day while their mother would watch them with a loving smile from the kitchen as she prepared their favorite — Dubujiggae.

It wasn't just this beloved street that they were leaving, it was the country they were emigrating from.

His father, Mr Park, had experienced massive business returns from his enterprise, and the man of the house decided that the best way to spend the money was not in Korea, in 15 Jeonjin Street, Uijeongbu. But in New Orleans, Louisiana.

America was the place where dreams came true, the place where one could get made, the only place in fact. It was God's own country after all, or at least that was what his father told him and Minhyung three months ago during their weekly family meeting.

His mother objected to it, she wanted to remain there in Korea, it was the only place she had ever known. Her ancestors lived on this land, her grandparents, and parents, they all lived and died here, and their cremated remains laid in urns there in Seoul, and she always said that she wanted to be placed next to her mother when she was gone.

But father wouldn't hear of it, perhaps mother would arrange for her cremated ashes to be sent to Seoul in anticipation of her death, since she was so obsessed with being laid to rest next to her predecessors.

"Hyung, get in." Minhyung says with a hand placed on Jimin's right shoulder. The boy nods before slipping inside the car, taking one last look at the house as the car drove down the road, drawing farther and farther away from 15 Jeonjin Street till it was nothing more than a blue blur.

1989

Jimin threw a medium size pebble into the lake, watching as the ripples that followed its movement in and out of the water were reduced to a clear stillness.

The brown house in New Orleans was nice, but it was no 15 Jeonjin Street.

Minhyung liked it here. He liked the new house better, and the environment, or maybe it was Lily, the younger twin of the Blake's family that lived next door that he liked so much.

Five years had passed since their move from Seoul to New Orleans, but there wasn't a day that the little blue house didn't cross Jimin's mind. Most especially when he got mocked by people at school for his accented English.

Mr Park often worried why and how Minhyung could speak English with an impeccable American accent as he liked to call it, but Jimin still spoke it with the Korean accent shining right through it.

Jimin did it on purpose though. His mother and Minhyung were the only ones that had caught him slipping up a few times, especially when he forgot to pronounce 'r' as 'l' like he often did to spite his father.

He would always say 'The lice is arlmost cookedeu' when he spoke to his father, much to the old man's chagrin. And when father was out of earshot and Minhyung spoke to him he would say 'Yeah, the rice is cooked already' in such clear English that one wouldn't doubt him if he said he was born here in New Orleans.