Gordon woke up the day that would be his last in Winneba, his small hometown in Ghana and lay in his bed, unsure of how to spend his final day. He stayed in bed and imagined what it would be like in America. He wondered if it would look like in the books he had borrowed over and over again from his school library and if it would be like the descriptions his friends had written in their letters to him. He thought then of his wife. She had been in America for a couple of years and now lived in a city called Lowell. He wondered if she were happy at her new job, if she were thinking of him, and if she liked her new home.

He got out of bed and walked outside to enjoy the sunshine. The sun can't possibly shine this brightly there. He was having second thoughts. He wondered if he should leave everything he'd ever known to pursue a better life for children that he didn't yet have.

Realizing that he only had a couple of hours left after sleeping in and lying in bed contemplating decisions he wasn't sure he wanted to make, he went back inside to the modest home he shared with his family to finish packing, wearily.

When the time came, his father drove him to the bus station that would bring him to the airport that would bring him to America.…

The bus driver yelled, “New York City,” and Gordon checked his pocket for the piece of paper that was tattered now, at the end of his journey from Ghana. He had located it so many times to be sure he hadn’t lost it––holding it in his hand, his thumb or forefinger moving along its folds for so much of the long flight, and then this endless bus ride from Canada––that the paper looked like it was decades, not weeks old. This piece of paper assured his future in America and contained the address he had jotted down just before he left home. This address was to be his temporary home, the first building in which he would live in America, his land of opportunity.

He walked the crowded streets wide-eyed and looking into the faces of as many of the myriads of people that he could. Searching for a familiar person or a smile that would remind him of home, he scanned the faces of the crowd. Gordon has never seen so many people at the same time and in the same place. He felt uneasy in a place where people power-walked looking straightforward, never stopping to meet the eyes of passersby with a smile. He would glimpse hope each time he caught the eye of a New Yorker, but would agonize with defeat each time the person looked away.

Missing home more with every smile that never came, he decided to look up, to try to take in the place since the friendliness he was looking for was nowhere to be found. He squinted into the sun to see the tops of buildings higher than any he’d ever seen––cathedrals and skyscrapers with which he had no memories to associate. He opened the folds of the piece of paper that had become his prize possession. He read the address again and asked a man for directions. “Just head on that way,” the man replied gruffly and pointed down a street with too many buildings.

As he neared the building that was to be his halfway house, halfway between his old life and the new life he would begin with his wife in Lowell, Massachusetts, he saw a young man walking toward him. Not having lost all faith, he looked into his eyes. These were eyes and a smile he recognized.

“Brother!” he cried out, to which this man replied the same. This was a man he knew from home who had come here before him. Gordon had known him nearly his whole life. He felt relief come over him as they embraced.

“Come and see where you will live,” said the man. Gordon followed him up three flights of steep stairs and into a small, untidy apartment. He looked around to see beds and sleeping bags everywhere he looked. He glanced in the direction of the kitchen and saw piles of dirty dishes. He wanted to ask how many people lived in the studio apartment but did not want to appear ungrateful.

“You must want to get cleaned up,” said his friend as he showed Gordon the bathroom. It was as dirty as the “bedroom” and kitchen had been. He turned on the shower and waited a few minutes for the water to warm up. It didn’t. He waited a few minutes more. Still nothing. His first shower in America would be a cold one.

The next morning Gordon was shaken out of sleep.

“Up. Come on let's go. Work.” He got up with a start and decided to skip the cold shower and just get dressed. “Come on,” his new brother said, “We have to be there in ten minutes.” Gordon got dressed as quickly as he could and the two were out the door.

They walked six blocks, and his new friend stopped at the sidewalk. “Here,” he said, and the two opened up the table the two had carried and started to arrange the imposter “designer” handbags. Gordon wondered why they were in such a hurry. There were hardly any possible patrons on the street, but decided that it was best to get an early start.

He followed his friend's lead and yelled, “Designer handbags here, designer handbags.” Their stand attracted many young female tourists. They made more money than Gordon expected and headed back toward home at nightfall. Waiting for the line for the bathroom to dissipate, Gordon took his second cold American shower.

It took several months to earn the money to make the trip to Lowell to be reunited with his wife. When that happy day finally arrived, his friend brought him to an NYC bus station where Gordon proudly paid his fare. In a few hours he would see his beautiful wife. He would get to hold her in his arms again. They would live together again and share a bed again. He would find work and the two would start a family. He would give his wife and children the good life that they deserved.

As the bus neared the Lowell station, Gordon searched the crowd for his wife, remembering every detail of her face as if they had never been apart. He spotted her. She was even more beautiful than he had remembered.

He grabbed his bag and started to move toward the front of the bus. He was the first passenger out the door and ran full speed through the people to the open arms of his wife. They held each other tightly, and silently vowed that they would never be apart again.