In days like today when I find myself alone at home I reminisce of my childhood . I’m sure I speak for many of us when I say that I miss being a kid and not having stress or things to worry about but most importantly, I miss my homeland, the place where I grew up. Like many Hispanics, I too was born in a foreign country and was brough to the United States at a young age. Nevertheless, I lived most of my childhood in Mexico and most of my memories are from there.
When I’m home alone or when I find myself overwhelemed or full of sorrow I wish I could be a kid again. At times like this I want time to stop, rewind itself and take me back when everything was happiness and joy. I can still remember when my mom woke me up early every Sunday and got me ready to go visit grandma and the rest of her side of the family. Even though I always dislike waking up so early I did not mind so much because I got to watch “Chabelo,” a Mexican show primarily target to children that aired every Sunday. After the show was over my mom and I walked to the bus stop to catch the bus that took us from our house in Zumpango to grandma’s house in San Juan Zitlaltepec. I always enjoyed going to grandma’s house primarily because of one reason: my cousins. When I was young I got along with all my cousins and even found myself playing soccer or marbles with the boys. They never minded me playing with them. But I didn’t always play with the boys. Sometimes, or most of the time, I followed around my older cousin Erika. At the time I only had two girl cousins, Erika and Mariela, on my mom’s side. Unfortunately I never got along with Mariela. For this reason I spent a lot of my Sundays with Erika. Erika spoiled me alot by either buying me candy or taking me to the store to play video games. She was great! Without a doubt I enjoyed spending time with her. However, it wasn’t all about fun and games all the time. There were times when Erika had chores to do around the house like cleaning or helping getting things ready for supper. One of my favorite memories is one of the many times when we played hide and seek in the corn field. Since we were little it was hard to play because the corn field was fully grown and it was hard to get around and easy to get lost in the field. By the end of the game we sat by the “pila,” a large stone container where water is stored. Right infront the pila there was a fully grown guava tree. I remember being hungry and tired from all that running around. We sat under the shade of the tree and a while later we asked grandma if we could take some of the guavas. With a smile on her face she said yes. Erika and I jumped on our feet and started looking for the best guavas. We were so young and little that we weren’t able to reach the guavas so we asked my mom for help. She chuckled for a minute. Then pleasantly walked towards the tree to grabbed the guavas that hung from the highest branches. Erika and I were placing the guavas in a basket that we found nearby when I heard someone calling. I looked up to see my aunt Olivia approaching us. She immediately told us to pick up our mess and send Erika to do more chores. Even though I was young I got mad at this. This was the only day I got to see Erika and only day I could play. My aunt was ruining my weekend. I remember making a remark about my aunt not wanting to do what was her job and instead sending Erika. She was frustrated at this remark and went to tell my mom about the incident. The point is that this small remark ended up being a huge argument between my aunt, my mom, and my grandma. My grandma knew my aunt was pretty lazy and would do anything to get out of doing things herself so she took my mom’s side. My aunt frustrated at the situation got her kid, Mariela, and left. Until this day there still is some of that sibling rivalry between my mom and aunt that stops them from getting along. This story is not the happiest story or memory, however, everytime I remember it I start giggling. It makes me go back to the sweet old days when I was back home “misbehaving” and just being a kid.
This is something we Hispanics in the United States go through. We live in a foreign country and the only thing we have left from our home country is our loved ones back home and our memories. These memories are what makes things worth while and motivate us to keep going. This country can sometimes be harsh to us and makes us feel unwanted and like we don’t belong. There is not a day that the thought of going back home does not cross my mind. Then the thought of being used to all these commodities and better opportunities follows the first thought. But most importantly, I have grown to see the United States as a second home and I’m unsure of being able to get used to the different lifestyle if I was to go back. This is a constant internal conflict not only I but most Hispanics face.