Personal Narrative: My American Dream

“I have to go mija, it’s getting late”. As soon as I would hear those words that my mom would use to say, my eyes would get watery and would felt a lump in my throat. I knew that I had to be strong, but deep down I knew I needed my mother more than anything. Not having the woman that gave birth to me by my side every day, it made me grow up with a mind of an independent woman and made me capable of knowing how to manage stuff by myself. I come from a Mexican family where I grew up following Mexican traditions. I was the only child to be born in the United States, but since my parents were from Mexico, and considering that they already had a home in Tamaulipas, Mexico, my mother took me down there where I studied kindergarten and half of elementary school. Unfortunately, my parents divorced when I was born due to personal problems between them, but we were still a joyful family; my sister, my mother and I. The three of us lived in a little white house. I remember we would

My mother and she talked about me moving with her to the valley in order for me to have a better future and pursue my "American Dream”. Then after adjustments, long talks and doing papers in the blink of an eye, I was already living with my aunt and both of his sons. Since I was 9 years old I grew up without my mother nor my sister. I remember when I barely moved with my aunt, my mother would sometimes come to the United States just to see me. When it was time for her to go, I would hold my tears until it was time to sleep and would cry in the dark so no one could see me. I used to feel so alone because I was not ready to move out from my house. Then, my mom got a job and it got difficult for my mother to come and see me, since she lived in Mexico. In addition, after several months of me moving to the United States, she stopped