I'm not writing about immigration using alternative viewpoints to show how naive Melvin was as a child (trust me, I was a silly kid). Rather this is, I truly believe, the best way to illustrate the fabric of my childhood. On one side there was me, a young Indian boy, enjoying the adventure of a new country. Then there were my parents, who were slowly struggling to cope with the cost of living in a branded country. The younger me didn't realize the sacrifices they were making for me. Like I said, I'm much wiser now. I know now that my parents made me oblivious to their suffering for all the right reasons. Instead of allowing me to be consumed by the terror they were consumed by, they let me think everything was okay so my childhood wouldn't be robbed. They allowed me to be a child and a teenager, and I always will be