This personal narrative is published in collaboration with Alexa Ault’s English classes and was edited for grammar and AP style by a Knight Life editor.
I’m originally from the Democratic Republic of Congo. When I was just 3 years old, I immigrated to a small town outside of Atlanta called Clarkston, Georgia. I lived there for about 10 years until I moved to Lexington, Kentucky. It was different, with its rolling bluegrass hills and historic horse farms that gave it a unique charm. I only lived there for a year before moving to Kalamazoo, Michigan, which is a very small town but has everything needed to raise a family.
While living in Georgia, I made lots of great memories, friends, and connections that I still value to this day. The hot summers were filled with laughter as my friends and I gathered for barbecues and shared stories. We celebrated each other’s cultures, teaching each other about our different beliefs, values, and traditions.
It was all that I knew, and I thought I would live in that state forever. I couldn’t even imagine leaving. I had an amazing friend group and a community of people like me, especially since Clarkston was filled with lots of immigrants from all over the world who felt like extended family.
Although I loved Clarkston, coming from such a small town meant that I wouldn’t get the same opportunities as other kids. My parents moved us around Georgia to bigger cities, hoping to give me better opportunities, but they struggled to find jobs that met our needs.
When my stepdad received a call that he and my mom could find decent jobs and great schooling for my siblings and me, they decided we should move. When I found out we were leaving, I FaceTimed my best friend, crying my eyes out. She jokingly told me to “go put Clarkston on the map.”
Leaving Clarkston was one of the toughest things I’ve ever had to do. As I packed up my belongings, a wave of nostalgia washed over me. Every corner of that town held a memory: the parks where we laughed until our sides hurt, the schools we grew up attending, and the streets filled with familiar faces.
I moved to Kentucky in the middle of August, right before the school year started. My emotions were all over the place. I was extremely nervous and upset. After two weeks, I started school. I felt so out of place and isolated, and I constantly longed for my friends back in Clarkston. I had nobody to talk to for three months. I kept to myself, and I felt like a shadow, until a 4-day camping trip came up. During this trip, I was able to make friends and get to know people.
The first friend I made in Lexington was Fiona. She saw me standing all alone and asked me what my name was. I told her it was Natasha. Then she said, “I’ll call you Nat instead,” and that was the start of many great friendships.
When I got home from the camping trip, I excitedly started telling my mom about all the different people I talked to and got to know. She just smiled and listened to me. After I finished talking, she told me, “ I told you all you had to do was give it a chance.”
My journey from the DRC to different towns in Georgia, then to Kentucky, and eventually to Michigan taught me how to be strong and flexible. I realized that the places I lived were more than just places: they’re a part of my identity.
Moving from my familiar home to new places like Kentucky and Michigan has helped me step out of my comfort zone, showing me that I can overcome loneliness. Ultimately, my journey taught me that it’s okay to let go of the things you’re attached to and comfortable with. Each move, while challenging, has shaped me, teaching me that home is not just a physical place but a state of being, defined by the relationships we build and the experiences we share.