Personal Narrative: My Childhood Memories Of A Native American

It starts early morning “adiós, adiós México querido, yo nunca olvidarte podré” (bye, bye dear Mexico, I can never forget ) my mother carries small boxes out our bright blue front door as we walk and get in a rusty old truck. The engine purrs and the truck jumps up and down because of the rocks that make up the road. My small turquoise house starts to fade way along with the trees, and mountains. That’s how it starts early morning leaving the memories of my childhood that influenced my character.
It happens every day I watching my parents tired eyes go to work before the sunrise “toquen mariachis, canten alegren mi corazón” (play mariachis, sing to rejoice my heart) to pay the bills of a one bedroom apartment for a family of six. The first year we had moved from Mexico to Houston was full of distant memories and nostalgia. We also hadn’t had much interaction with many people but one we decided to go and explore the big building where you bought pretty things. We entered the building but when we got inside we became the subjects of entertainment because people like us where a novelty.

A security guard followed our very step watching us carefully because when came into to this place for a dream so only things we could afford where the dreams we dreamt.

My mother held her head high and told us that the only time we should ever feel ashamed or inferior is when we have forgotten who we are and our purpose because we are proud people with a wonderful heritage that doesn’t bow down or crumple. This memory reminds me every day that should be always proud of my heritage and ethnicity because these are the components that make me different that allow me to be loud and bright to be determined and ambitions just like my

parent.
` This when I first realized that my parents depend on me as much as I depend on them and had high expectations on our capabilities. “Caminos que me esperan, no me dejen sin volver, porque aquí una madrecita buena me está pidiendo me vaya bien” (Roads waiting for me, do not leave me without returning, because here a good little mother she is asking me to do well). My mother would always tell us that she did not what us to be like her and my father because their excuse was lack of opportunity we didn’t have any excuse on why we couldn’t do our homework or go to school. They had to leave school to help provide for their families in any way they could growing crops, selling food or fruits. My mother pushed us to learn and understand the language to appreciate the education this county provided us with because she did not what to see us clean for hours on hand and keens or to work in construction breaking pavement. My mother’s words became my motivation to work hard in my education because it would be my hard work that would build me my future.