Mexican Immigration History

During the long car rides to my grandmother's home in Mexico I often stare out at the landscape and think about my origins.On my latest visit as we pulled up to the small cactus riddled town I thought of what I should say. After a minute I settled on “Hi! How are you?”.When we arrived I wrung my hands and walked across the dirt road to her house. We knocked on the rusty metal door. When the door was opened there stood a small group of people whom I barely recognized but was somehow related to. I was quite simply perplexed, I stood quiet and just stared. That was my shirt he was wearing, those were my shoes, and that boy was wearing my pants. Most of these people were wearing my old clothes. I stumbled along the usual chit chat but I could not keep myself from glancing every few seconds. I could sense they noticed. I did not know what I should say, what I could say nor if I would be able to say it for that matter and neither did they. There wardrobe was comprised mainly of my old clothes. …show more content…
Neither of them got more than and tenth grade education. My parents spent their days learning how to repeat the meek existence of their parents lives. Upon finishing school they were expected to either help their parents with farm work or create their own local job or practice. Though my parents were taught one thing they dreamt of another. A brighter place, where they could make more, do more, and be more. My parents spoke of leaving their home. After some time and with support from my grandparents they found themselves working modest jobs. They sent a portion of their paychecks back to to their parents and still do so