Mexico Personal Narrative

At the age of two my parents made the long and devastating journey to bring me and my siblings to the United States from Mexico. They sought for a brighter and better future for us and fought tooth and nail to give us the world they didn’t have growing up. Ever since I had stepped foot on U.S soil I never had the chance to go back. The sacrifices that permitted me to be able to attend school for free and giving me a better head start than I would’ve had if we’d stayed couldn’t mask the effects of the move. I didn’t grow up being enriched by the colorful culture that Mexico has, I missed out on the opportunity to share moments with my family from abroad, and fought the struggle of trying to blend in, in an environment that was so different
To begin with, the most incredible part of the trip was Mexico’s culture. The country was alive and booming with so many different traditions, I felt like I was being transported to another world every time I ate a new dish or saw a new dance. When we made our way to my father’s village, they were celebrating the harvest season. There was a whole festival to welcome the change of season. Men as well as women sported traditional white attire, consisting of stunning white, floral embroidered dresses for the women and simple white button up shirts and pants with rounded yellow straw hats and red handkerchiefs for the men. Both were dancing “El baile de la Piña” or “the dance of the pineapple”. The dancers were swaying with pineapples in hand, thanking the god of harvest and the fruit for providing them with food for the village. With this in mind, I wasn’t amazed at how deeply connected everyone was with the earth. They treated her with love and respect. The animals, they cared for them dearly, knowing the importance they served in their everyday lives. In fact, entire routines convey stories dedicated to animals and plants, love and war, life and death; everything remembered and
I was nervous nonetheless; Palms sweaty, heart racing, and tear-filled eyes was how I met them. As soon as the sun set the band started playing and the people poured in. The whole neighborhood invited themselves and soon enough I was having trouble distinguishing between who was and wasn’t my family. Warmth filled the air with all the stories being told, all the long awaited laughs caressed our ears, and the love that poured out of everyone was enough to last a lifetime. My uncles if they weren’t embarrassing themselves from the lack of dancing skills they had, I could hear them singing their sorrows in tune with the mariachi band in the background. My Aunts filled me in with the town gossip of the last fourteen years, making sure not to leave any secrets out. Smiles painted across our faces, my cousins and I took to the dance floor, skipping around until our feet bore blisters and sweat drenched our clothes. My grandparents told me stories from when they were younger. They shared with me the story of how, despite disagreements from each other’s family, they fell in love and stayed together till this day. My grandfather recalled to me how he had tried numerous times to woo my grandmother with sunflowers just so she would let him walk her home. “She rejected the roses so I brought her the Sun.”, he