A few months ago, an Iraqi family invited me inside of their new American apartment when I showed up at their door. With a Burmese man waiting in my car, I was supposed to pick up the Iraqi man and take the men to a nearby bus stop where they would learn the basics of the public transportation system. The hospitality and wonderful smiles of the family overwhelmed me, and I promised them I would visit again that Saturday.
I quickly built a relationship with the Iraqi family, consisting of a wonderful mother and father, two beautiful girls, and a little baby boy.
{A cherished present from one of the girls}
Last Wednesday, while in their neighborhood, my friend and I dropped by their apartment. We were spontaneously served a beautiful meal on their bedroom floor. In an effort to return the favor, I decided to invite them over to my house for once. Last night I drove the twenty minutes to their apartment as my friends put the finishing touches on the American meal we prepared for them.
The father enthusiastically told me how beautiful my house was, and nodded at me as if I had already succeeded in achieving the American dream, which, I suppose, I have.
We sat around the dining room table and talked about food, favorite sports, school, Iraq, and learning English. The eleven-year-old girl promised me that she would learn English in two months. We both look forward to the girl talk.
Next Friday we're all going to their apartment for a traditional Iraqi meal.
Last night I was incredibly thankful for friends who went out of their way to buy halal meat for chili, wrote "peace" in Arabic on a cake, and helped me prepare everything in the hour I had after work.
I'm so proud!
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