Etzatlan Jalisco, Mexico

used clothing and my dad was a truck driver, he was always out of town and missed many special events due to his job. Even though they would work almost the entire day,

My birth took place in Mar del Plata, Argentina, into a family of six including myself. Years passed, my mother gave birth to a girl and was pregnant soon after to another. My father, a strong laboring mechanic decided that it was time he moved his three boys and soon to be three girls from the home he literally built with his bare hands alone, to another country with grander opportunities, not for himself, but for his six children. He decided that with the money that cost him years of tireless work and stress he could only afford passage for himself. He set off for the United States and for months he worked day in and day out, any job he could get his hands on. He paid for our flight and had a modest, dainty apartment awaiting our arrival.

I was borned in a small village call San Bartolome Quialana located in Southeastern Mexico. It is best known for its indigenous peoples and cultures. Here, in San Bartolome Quialana, women proudly cover their heads with multicolored chews and protect their satin dress with their gauze blouse and bib garments, each made with their own hands. The fabric is reserved for the women who also work in the fields. I mostly grew up with my mother Guadalupe,Smirna and Friedy. My brother being 14 years and my sister 12. In San Bartolome Quialana I grew up speaking an indigenous language call Zapoteco. I lived in a bigger house there but didn't have any warm water, nor a shower. Our kitchen didn't have a stove we made our own tortilla in a comal. My

It seems like just yesterday Mom was telling me to pack my bags. We were living in a small farming town just outside Catarina, Mexico. Times were really tough and Dad had lost his job. My family knew of people moving to the United States for work, but my family never considered it. Our entire family resides in Mexico; the thought of moving was unbearable.

One day waking up thinking this was a normal day at my birth home, Jamaica, I walked to my grandparents’ house, stayed there for a couple of hours, then I saw this pretty, shiny, new Nissan Altima pulled up, and stopped. Moments later a tall dark-skinned guy stepped out the vehicle, fixed his hat, and walked to the door. When the doors open he burst into tears and said to me, “Hey son”, at first my siblings and I was in shock because we have not seen our father since 2004, I did not know what he looked like until I saw pictures of me and him together. Later that night we party and have fun together. The next morning, he drove in and we took pictures, then, we went to dunns-river falls, also we went and eat.

I was born in Merida, Mexico. That special day my father was in prison, he would leave our family by my fourth birthday. It would take me eight years to reunite with him in America. With two sisters and a single mother, I became the man of the house at a young age. Neither of my parents finished a high school education. I held my first job at age seven cleaning windshields at stoplights for any available change, in an effort to alleviate my mother’s burdens. My life experiences have taught me resiliency, hard work, and determination.

During the summer my family and me went on vacation to mexico to see my grandma at her house it took us 2 days to get to her town is mexico when we got there is was 11 at night my uncle opened the garage door to let us in when we got off the car my grandma opened the door to let us in her house she gave everyone a hug the her and my mom started to cook food for everyone. After everyone got their suitcases out of the car and took them to there room my mom and dad slept in one room, my sister and her daughter slept in another room and my nephew and me slept in the living room. The next day my dad showed me around the town he grew up in where his other family members who lived there, and his aunt who owns a store on the corner of the street. When

The first time I’ve met my parents was when I was five. When they approached me at the airport, I did not know who they were. When I found out that they were my parents, I did not know how to react — I was excited, but also scared. Standing in front of me were two people whom I listened to the voices of for the past five years and spoke casually with on the phone, but meeting them in person was a whole different story.

It was July 25th, 2003 when the first Ciudadana was born, seven pounds three ounces at 3:28 pm. I was the joy of my parent’s, brother, tias, tios , and primos ( aunt’s, uncle’s, and couisins. I was the one that had a chance, first generation. My parents describe it as an emotional experience. I was my Father’s first child and my moms only girl. It was in that room where history was made for the Mora Hernandez Morales Martinez family. The hardest part is that none of my grandmothers were there to see me growing up, they were at “home”

I was just a small town girl living in Grants, New Mexico. There is a saying that if you blink you will miss it driving down the highway. I was born and raised in Milan; it was just a little portion of Grants. My entire mom’s side of the family lived close by us and my dad’s side of the family was in Espanola, except for my grandma Yolie my dad’s mom. I grew up knowing almost everyone in that small town. The challenge in living in Grants was there were no available jobs. My parents had to drive back and forth to and from Albuquerque. As I was in kindergarten through second grade I would stay at my auntie’s house early in the morning or with my grandma while both my parents were in Albuquerque. Family was everything to me or at least what I

On the 23rd of January in the year 2003, at around 1:00 in the afternoon at Kaiser Permanente San Francisco, I was born into the world. My parents, Frederick Torres Nangca and Rowena Aldana Nangca, and I first settled in my grandparent’s studio as a child. The space was small but open for the most part. From what I remember, the wall that was on the same side as the door had a drawer beneath the television where they kept most of their belongings. Just across from that was a blue couch that they had pushed up against the ten windowed wall. Next to the couch was a smaller beige dresser that held my grandfather’s extra clothes along with a few of my grandmother’s accessories. My grandmother and grandfather often held novenas and parties in honor of God.

Last year in October I came from school as usual I remember that day was very cold and I was covered in winter clothes my stomach growled from the hunger I had, so I went to eat a hot soup so that the cold would take away. While I ate the soup I listened as my parents talked I could not hear clearly so I decided to go quietly to listen to my parents they decided to move from Mexico to United States the reason why my parents decided that it was better to go to the United States was for job reasons, while I processed everything they said suddenly my mother called me along with my younger brother and explained the reasons why it was necessary for us to leave.

Did you know that Mexico City is built on top of Tenochtitlan? The Aztecs originated in the northern part of Mexico in 1100 C.E, they finally settled in the valley of Mexico around 1250 C.E. They learned how to work with the land and became very skilled farmers. They used a 365-day calendar like we use today. They worshiped many gods and built temples and palaces in their honor. There were roads, canals, and markets built from Aztecs, boats bring people and goods from one city to another.

In the early 1970’s, before my grandparents met, they both crossed the Mexico border as teens. Given that, some of their family were in America, it made it much

The short story Mexico City from 1950 was written by Ray Bradbury. The original name for this story was The Window. It was later named Mexico City and Calling Mexico. All three names make sense considering what the story is about.