I do not belong. My skin is too dark, my hair is too long, and my accent is too strong. I do not belong.
Mi familia was loud and big. There were six people: Mama, Papa, Maria, Pedro, Carlos, Jose, y me. Mi familia was loud and big.
We were dirt poor. Mama y Papa worked all day to put tortillas y arroz on our shaky wooden table. We were dirt poor.
The dream. One day, Mama y Papa said we were moving to America. The dream.
I was scared. We packed little food and wore the clothes we had. I was scared.
We said goodbye. I waved adios to the makeshift sticks we called a home and to my muddy friends. We said goodbye.
It was night. We climbed into the back of what looked like a large van with 12 other people and were covered with quilts which smelled like pigs. It was night.
Roads are bumpy. The man drove us for hundreds of miles close to the border. Roads are bumpy.
He was stopped. Our van finally made it to the border where we could start a new life. He was stopped.
He ran. It was early morning when the 18 of us were left by our driver in a grassy field. He ran.
The sun was scorching. We had no water at the time and the food was all eaten. The sun was scorching.
We were alone. There was no movement outside and everyone inside was silent. We were alone.
It smelled bad. I closed my eyes and let mi mama hug me closely while I shook. It smelled bad.
I breathed heavily. A day passed while we waited in the van for help, there was a system in place to help those stranded. I breathed heavily.
The doors were locked. We were unable to get out of the van or call for help. The doors were locked.
Two days later. It smelled like rotten bodies and I knew some had not made it. Two days later.
I closed my eyes. I did not want to see who was dead. I closed my eyes.
I was so hungry. Esa es la manera de que la cookie se desmorona. I was so hungry.
Footsteps. A boarder patrol man broke open the door and pulled up our quilt. Footsteps.
We were not safe. Drugs and guns were also found in the van and the officer was angry. We were not safe.
It was 120 degrees. I was curled in a sweaty ball in the van and waited to be taken. It was 120 degrees.
I do not belong. My skin is too dark, my hair is too long, and my accent is too strong. I do not belong.