Sadness and Sorrow
October 8, 2013, the day my mother immigrated from Honduras. I was 8 years old. The night before seemed dark and unpredictable. Harsh breeze; strong wind. I woke up to the sound of sorrow. “Wake up son. It’s almost time to go.” I knew it was inevitable and unstoppable. Walking through a grove; each step we took felt too short. ”Your journey ends here,” she said. A child with no notion of the world wanted to be strong for her. But he couldn’t hide his immense sadness. ”You are going to be fine- you’re a strong boy”. She wandered away from me. I stood for a few seconds and watched as she took a part of me. I walked back to the house, my heart pounding inside of my chest. Each step felt like an eternity. Pebbles crunching beneath my feet, as if they were a part of me; wind crashing into the trees and slamming into the ground. Mind blank; I wanted to think, but my heart was collapsing on itself over and over again. The birds were chirping, peeping, tweeting. It was the dawn chorus. A new dawn for me. The only person who had been with me my whole life was gone. I arrived home and went straight to our room and lay down on the bed. Heart pounding, I started crying. Uncontrollable tears: sadness and sorrow.
Commencement
I have been robbed of my dreams many times. Taken by misfortune. I tried four times to enter the US and reunite with my mother. I can recall every detail of my many journeys. Sneaking into a forest at dawn in the middle of Mexico. Advancing deeper into the forest, I could hear all the birds chirping and singing. The sound of the machete ripping through sticks and leaves. Tired; scared. It was only me and the Coyote. It seemed like everything around me was trying to stop me. Numb feet; hands shaking. The skin of my fingers was wrinkled. I was almost passing out. We got out of the forest into a plain field. I could see the sunset. The clouds seemed unreal, a deep, red orange making weird shapes: animals and faces . I almost passed out and I couldn’t keep my legs straight. The soles of my feet felt nothing. The sensation you get after a long day of swimming at the beach and the motion of the waves still carrying your body, in the same way, I could still feel my feet sinking into the mud with every step I took.
The fourth and final try. From Mexico City to Monterrey. Around 30 people and I were placed inside the storage unit of an 18-wheeler. Completely sealed, with little to no room to breathe. I thought I might die, and yet as an 11 year old, I was unphased. I knew what being close to death was. Fifteen long hours of exhaustion. I was pressed in by everyone around me. The loud breathing, the kicking, the crying, the praying, the cursing, the snoring, the banging, the repenting. I could hear it all.
Joyfulness and Happiness
A month later, I was in an office in San Antonio. My heart was beating fast, and I could not discern or determine the upcoming sequence of events. The air felt thin, as though I was at the top of the tallest mountain in the world. I had reached the peak, and just like a hiker, I felt an unimaginable relief for the first time in a long time. As my mother walked into the office, I jumped out of my seat and went straight to her. She started crying; I told her that our struggle was over. An extraordinary burden was lifted from my shoulders. It was truly a moment of joy and happiness.
This story is about my journey from Honduras to the USA. I never thought I was going to be writing about this. I am not going to say it was difficult to write about this, but it was definitely time consuming. I left out a lot about what happened. I had to condense the most important parts and I’m glad I made it happen.