Prologue

The nineteen-year-old girl stood on the deck of the ship, clutching a small suitcase with her left hand. In it were only a few possessions: a few clothes, bed sheets, and silverware, along with a prayer book and several photos of her family and dearest friends. She turned her back on the sea stretching for miles ahead of her, facing instead her mother and fiancé who waved back at her from the shore. Her short brown hair fluttered around her in the breeze as she gave them a nervous smile and waved back. She heard the ship pull up the anchor and felt it begin to move slowly underneath her feet.

A small gasp escaped her throat. She suddenly wanted to reach out to them, to stop the ship and run back to where they stood, but it was too late. Slowly but surely the ship was moving out to sea, and the distance between her and the shore was increasing.

"Git down there," a man said roughly, shoving her towards the stairs leading to the steerage part of the boat. "You go on and git where you belong."

She stumbled but then quickly regained her balance. Casting one last glance back at the shore, she sighed and made her way down the steps.

This is the diary of Cristina Piscopo, an Italian immigrant journeying overseas to America in the early 1900s and about the struggles she had to cope with. Welcome to her world. Welcome to her life.

November 15, 1906

Dear Diary,

It is with a heavy heart that I leave the country where I have spent so much of my life. Giuseppe proposed to me shortly after I had made my decision to come to America. I can still remember exactly how it happened. I was walking down the street to buy some fruit from the street peddlers. Father had recently fallen ill, and we did not have the money to spare to hire a doctor to see what was wrong with him. Mother had given me some of the last of our money to buy some food for him, hoping that it would help him recover.

Giuseppe came up behind me, greeting me with a grin. But his smile faded when he saw the fear in my eyes, the fear that Father might not regain his strength soon enough. The fear that we would have to go for days without food before Father could go back to work. The fear that we might get kicked out of our house for not paying the rent for the last two months. He put his arm around me, and then I could not stop the tears from running down my face.

He leaned closer to me to gently brush the tears away from my cheek. "Carissima, don't cry," he said, rocking me back and forth in his arms. "What's wrong?" He did not expect me to answer, and so I didn't. We both knew that it had happened many times before. Contagious diseases kept becoming more frequent, and they would sweep around Naples mercilessly, causing hundreds of people to be near death. My father was not as young as he once was. The epidemics were starting to take a toll on him.

He gave me a soft kiss. "I know this is hard for you. But you will get through it, don't worry. Please cheer up; I hate to see you so sad." His tone was gentle, and filled with concern. It once again reminded me how much I loved him, how glad I was that he was there for me during a time that was turning out to be so hard on my family. I knew that he had his own troubles, but he always seemed to find the time to comfort me, and reassure me.

"Carissima," he said, looking deep into my eyes and clasping my hands in his, "I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?"

I didn't even have to think. "Of course," I said, wiping the tears from my eyes and doing my best to put on a smile. "I love you," I said, beginning to cry again, whether out of happiness or grief I cannot tell. He had always been there for me whenever I needed him and I could not believe he was actually asking me to marry him. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," he said softly, and slipped a ring onto my finger. He put his arms around me once again and gave me another kiss.

"I'm going to have to leave for a while," I murmured softly into his lips.

He drew back. "What?" he was clearly surprised. Some confusion crept into his voice.

"It's only for a while," I said, regretting the decision I had made to leave only a while earlier. "But my family really needs the money. Mother needs to stay with Father, so I'm going to go over to America for a few months, see if I can find a job there.I'll be back soon, don't worry." I had a foolish hope that somehow he would get me out of my situation, but he said nothing.

There was a long pause, and then he said, "I understand. I can wait a while longer. I will wait for you. You will find me here waiting when you return."

I gave him a half-smile, overwhelmed with feelings of sadness and regret. I could imagine how much trouble he had gone through to get the plain engagement ring; his family was not very well off either. It made me feel bad for having to leave just when he had worked up his courage to propose to me. "I will think of you always," I vowed, squeezing him tight. "I will never forget you. And I'll come back for you."

We walked hand in hand over to the vendor selling fruits, and then holding my groceries I gave him a last kiss and went back into my own house.

Mother was both pleased and saddened by the news of my engagement. She wholeheartedly approved of Giuseppe, but I could tell she was worried inside about the large sum of money it would take for us to have a proper wedding. That made it even more crucial that I get to America and send some money back to Italy as soon as possible.

Giuseppe came with Mother to say goodbye to me. I found passage on the ship Liguria, for about $25 dollars. This was quite a large amount, which is why I now find myself with just a few lire in my pocket. In thirteen days I should be coming into New York Harbor. Right now as I look down at the ring on my finger that Giuseppe gave me, I wish he was here with me. He had expressed a desire to come, but something had come up in his family that prevented him from coming. I feel guilty, that he comforts me about my troubles but I do not often think to inquire about his. Now I am sitting in the hull of the ship, crowded in with maybe a thousand other Italians. I can tell this journey will not be pleasant. I pray to God that he will keep Father alive, and that Giuseppe will still love me and wait for my return.

A/N: I decided to try out this new idea of writing the story through diary entries and having a story set in the past, sort of like a historical fiction. This is meant to be based on real experiences immigrants had in the early 1900s, even though the storyline itself is fictional. Anyways, please review to tell me what you think of this chapter! From now on it won't be at all in the third person anymore; that was just for the prologue to give an idea of who the main character is. I really need feedback and opinions, so please tell me whatever you think will make the story better, or just what you think of it in general. I need to get at least some reviews before I can update!

(by the way in case anyone was wondering, "carissima" means "dearest" in Italian, and I know that she should be paying for the ship in lires not dollars but I don't know how much it would have costed back then in lires.)