Biography

The month of August brings countless memories of times spent with my family, but one specific memory always comes to mind, the month where my adventure began. I had never thought that I would be compelled to leave everything behind; my mother and father, my brothers and sister, my aunts and uncles, and my numerous cousins and friends. It was all a difficult sacrifice I had to make. But I knew that I would soon be reunited with my husband in the United States, and that made me smile.

First of all, I must confess that I did not think that I would be able to cross to the border. I had heard so innumerable stories in which people had been caught by the border patrol, given to immigration and they would be required to start their voyage all over again. The tales people lost in the desert, never to be heard from again were abundant. Apart from those worries, I would be traveling with my restless two-year-old son, which added another worry to the many that I already had in mind. But I had already made my mind, I was to cross the border and that was final.

I went to look for the person that I had been recommended. When I arrived there, he told me that he knew just the right people that could help me. He took me with them and to my luck they told me that they would be leaving that same day. All the days of my childhood spent outside frolicking about with all siblings and my friends would soon become a memory. Soon the faces of all my loved ones would become a faded picture recollected in the faulty camera in my mind.

They were to take me to a pueblo, called Tecate and I was told that I would not be walking the vast desert land that so thousands of others before me had. I beamed with glee at this. I was so glad that my two-yea...

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...ion in a town called San Clemente, ten of us were carefully placed in the front part of a pickup truck. After about ten minutes my legs started to fall asleep from how cramped we were. I told the driver that my child and I would not be able to stay in that position for the whole trip. He stopped at a gasoline station and rearranged the ten of us.

At last, we had arrived! It had taken us about four days to reach Los Angeles, four long treacherous days. There my aunt Yolanda and her husband came to pick us up. I recounted the events of my journey at a meal. Without asking for it, I had learned that crossing the border was the most difficult task that I would ever endure. That night my child and I slept soundly. The next morning, Pedro, my husband, came to pick us up. After about six hours we arrived to Hayward, which has been my home for almost 18 years.