I am an Orphan. My home country is Iran. I have lived there throughout the first nine years of my life, but we left the country during times of crises. We moved to the US, where our uncle was living in. He is my father's senior brother, uncle Abagtha. He is known as James over here. He has been residing in the United States for years. According to my father, he felt that Iran wasn't for him. He is an adventurer and wanted to see the world, so he moved to the US.
He was the only one in his whole family that migrated to another country. During the time of crises in the country, my father thought it was safe for us to live with him. He didn't want anything to happen to his family while in Iran. My uncle didn't have any problem with it, and we moved over there.
We were there, waiting to be granted American citizenship, something which my uncle already possesses. But on this particular day, on their way back from their friend's house, they had a car crash and died immediately. I was with my uncle at that time. The driver who drove into them was drunk. While he was able to make it out of the situation alive, my parents didn't.
Since then, my uncle raised me as his own, and we have lived a comfortable life ever since.
My name is Esther, and this is my story.