The Love Of My Life

It has been 11 years since we have arrived to Los Angeles, California. I can still remember the feeling of when my father had said to us that he we would be moving to a far place to try to find better jobs for my mother and him because with the two jobs my father had and the washing and ironing of other peoples clothes my mom did was not bringing enough money to support my sisters and me and did they wanted to provide a better life for my sisters and me. Mexico was such a poor country that my parents could not see themselves make enough money to support my sisters and me, let alone see us get a better education. So my parents decide to migrate to the United States with one of my mother’s brother. We arrived in Los Angeles, California on

I grew up in a small town in the state of Michoacan, Mexico until a few weeks after my seventh birthday. In 2001, after six years since my father petitioned to have us come to the United States with him and finally he had received a letter from U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services that his request had been approved. Being of that age, I was my mother’s companion everywhere, however, all I could grasp from those conversations was that we were going to the United States. I don 't think any of us knew what this meant or to what extent this would change our lives, not even my parents whom I thought knew it all.

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.

Time passed and I still hated Mexico. I complained every day, I wanted to go back to the place I loved, but a knife cuts both ways with a loose definition of origin, it’s effortless to feel as if you don’t belong anywhere. I started to see the bright sides of moving to Mexico, such as having my entire family with me and having more time to learn about the country I was born from and obtain pride within it. However, Mexico was not my country, it was always busy with people shouting and the school was not helping either. The school was far from accepting, everyone knew each other since kindergarten getting a new kid was like winning an exceedingly rare lottery. Everyone had a rough time adapting, but at the end, we all found our way, after all, intelligence is the ability to adapt. We stayed in Mexico for a year, this gave me enough time to fall in love with my country, I accepted the situation for exactly what it was instead of trying to manipulate it into what I believe it should be. However wonderful or substandard the situation was I would always find the solution. The traffic was unbearable, the city was too dangerous, my accent was confusing. I accepted these challenges so I could feel the acceleration of victory, I started to take the subway, never left the house alone and started to observe how everyone else spoke and copied their accent, even though hard work does not guarantee success, success cannot be achieved without hard work. We also gained a

I came to the United States on October 1st 2009. As an eight-year-old, I didn’t realize the changes my life was about to go through. I would always dream of coming to the united states because of the amount of opportunities that I could have here, that I could never have in El Salvador. Although, I didn’t comprehend that would mean leaving my whole family and making such a huge change in my life. Growing up in El Salvador I got used to depending on my family and having their support no matter what. After I moved the changes were really hard for me: Not having my family around, learning a new language, and getting used to a new lifestyle; took me some time to get used to.

My family and I left Mexico before I could even form the words “permanently residing.” After that, my life became a story of disconnection. My childhood was built upon the forceful disconnection of my cultural roots from my life that began with the ripping of the Spanish language from my tongue.

As I looked out the window and saw barren dirt roads, no overflowing shopping centers or even a Wal-Mart, I began to question where my parents had brought me. We were in Presidio, TX, a small town on the border of the United States and Ojinaga, Mexico. I questioned how my grandparents, or even my dad could have lived in such an underdeveloped town for years. The visits to Presidio became somewhat constant and rather than staying weekends, I stayed months. I developed an appreciation for the town and I could now communicate with the community shouting “Buenos Dias!” to everyone I ran into on our morning walks to the local market. During one of my prolong stays my five year old sister developed a urinary tract infection. The infection could have

I was born and raised in Jerez de Garcia Salinas, Zacatecas Mexico in 1996. I acknowledged the fact that both my parents had been able to attend college and worked as professionals because not many of my childhood friends were able to say the same about their parents. My mother had studied biology to become the well-known Bio-pharmaceutical chemist she still is, and my father had studied medicine for a long period of time to become a medical doctor. I felt truly blessed for both my parents, and I felt like my family had come a long way considering how my maternal grandmother was nearly seventy years old and had never learned how to read, write, or even count numbers to ten. However, I learned that life tends to happen and it does so in curious ways. My father currently works at a print-screen factory thanks my uncle, one of his nine siblings. My father has been in the US for as long as my younger brother, Erik, has lived for which is now 12 years. Our parents are still married, yet no longer together.

Coming from Mexico was a difficult transition, but looking back at that memory, it is a reminder that anything is possible. I remember the sun felt like an oven most days. Sweat ran down my back and through my clothes. One summer day I walked to meet my new future,however, I kept thinking and admiring my beautiful country: Mexico. Time passed by quickly From the time I woke until the time I reached the airplane. My feet weakened with pain and excitement. Pain because I was leaving my family behind to find a better future or myself. I knew,the trees, the beautiful flowers: the lilies, the Violets, The marigolds, and the strong yet satisfying smell of el chile. I felt excitement because I would be able to see something new that would become

I was born in Medellin, Colombia in 1984, in a loving and unconventional family. After my mother, Gloria, was discharged from the hospital, we went to live with my grandparents, Alicia and Arturo, and my uncles, Luis Carlos, the eternal bachelor of the family, and Gustavo, the divorced one. Shortly after my birth, my mother sealed my fate, when she decided to leave for the United States, as had most of the family. In particular, my Grandmother Alicia’s sisters and their daughters, my mother’s cousins, who had immigrated years before to the city of New Jersey, in search of a better life. Truthfully, my mother did not need to leave Medellin. She had an exceptional job in the same company that my grandfather worked as a CPA and was well off in life. When my mother left for New Jersey, I stayed behind with my grandparents and uncles, who raised me with love, but knowing that at any moment I will too, depart. Years passed and as with everything, life goes on. I had a typical life of a Colombian girl and spoke with my mother regularly. On those calls, she reminded me that one day I was to go to New Jersey. At the end of the eighties, my mother asked my father a signed permission to leave the

I knew moving to a new state half way across the country would change my life, but I wasn’t sure how. Little did I know this move would change my life for the better. It was Mid afternoon on December 26th 2011, my dad had just dropped me and my siblings off at the airport to go move halfway across the country with our mom to Colorado Springs, Colorado. We had walked into the airport knowing there was no turning back. The floor glistened as if it had just been cleaned. So clean I could see my reflection staring back at me as if it were saying “this is it.” We began to walk toward the security check. Which by the way is my least favorite part of going on any trip. Nobody said a word. My sister Devon, my brother Ian. Not a sound. We had successfully

My journey takes me back to my childhood days in Mexico, I had very little in life due to my family’s financial troubles, and the vast majority of my childhood was consequently ruined. Numerous times I would think to myself that I would never be able to accomplish any of my dreams or even make a life for myself. It isn’t until the end of my High school education that I had made the decision to move in with my Sister to the

The first 17 years of my life were spent in the most beautiful place, Caracas, Venezuela. I was happy with my life over there. I had all my family and friends who made me happy and I knew I could depend on them, for any situation in my life. Everything changed when I graduated high school in 2014 and my parents decided to bring me and my older sister, who is only two years older than me, to Miami for a better education. On December 16 of 2014, I got on a plane and left my family and friends behind. I can still remember that day. If you asked me, I thought the world was coming to a blazing end.

I was born in the state of Zacatecas, México in the year 1996, but raised in the city of El Cerrito Del Agua, Ojo Caliente. I lived there for the first seven years of my life before moving to the United States. My parents, Jaime and Guadalupe were both born in El Cerrito del Agua, as well as for my two little brothers at that time, Gerardo and Bernado. It wasn’t a big city but instead had a population of less than 1,000 residents. Even though it was a poor place we all managed to survive and live happily. The schools and homes weren’t in their best condition but they were all we had. I lived my early childhood very happy along with a lot of loving and caring people. That place holds my family’s history. Being born from

Everyone has that best friend they believe they will have forever, they plan out their future together, but that can all come crashing down. That is what happened with Jason James and I. Jason was once my best friend, practically a brother, we did everything together. I was always there for him, in the times when he needed someone the most. Jason James suffered from depression, like me. Because I knew exactly what he was going through, we became close. But there was always something off about our friendship. It was always about him. One day I got a text from Jason saying he needed to get out of the house and just talk. I, of course, sprang to action. I picked him up and we got ice cream and talked. I let him talk through what was going on, and gave him the advice he needed. Then a couple days later I was having a rough day, and I just wanted someone to talk to, I texted Jason hoping he could help. He said he would come over, and be with me. But when he got there all he did was talk about him. Everything I would say he would turn it around and make it about him. Although this did not happen all the time, it did most often. Jason James was a negative influence on my life because our friendship was only about him, he blamed me for every problem he faced, and he never truly cared.