For me, America was a place to bury my memories.For Baba, a place to mourn his.
For me, Canada is a place to pursue my dreams. However, it is also the place where I realized my parents have aged.
Although it seemed to have little to do with the book, I still felt outraged to see such a man who was successful and prestigous back home became a worker at the gas station. For Amir and his Baba, they had no choice because they had to escape from the war. However, I do not understand how can the thousands of immigrants give up their families, friends, memories and successes to a foreign place where there are no families and friends. They have to start from nothing and they can never be successful again. Most of them cannot find a job. If they did, it would be a waiter or waitress at a restuarant, or a worker in a small company paid with minimal wage. Their intelligience is buried in their homeland, which no one in a foreign country would value.
My parents are not immgirants, neither do I. I am simply a student and I appreciate what I have learned in Canada. Maybe I should not ask for more, but I really hope that different people should be treated with equal respect. I am always bothered by the waiters or shop assistances when I am translating for my dad, who came all the way across the pacific to visit me. He speaks six different dialects, but he can only understand a few words in English. To me he is a man who holds up the sky, but he seemed so weak when he is speak broken English.
Thankfully he lives in China, where he is like a duck to water. He is still the powerful man that I remember. May the years treat my beloved families tenderly.