Tag: Writing

I often find myself thinking of the “what if’s.”

WHAT IF my family would have stayed in Mexico instead of immigrating to the U.S.?

WHAT IF my parents would have left my brother and I in Mexico (like often happens with many children) and immigrated to the U.S. in order to send back money?

WHAT IF I had my grandparents in close proximity? I wonder what that relationship would have been like.

But in all these what if’s, I am selfishly thinking of the impact these decisions had on my life.

It wasn’t until recently that I thought of the life altering effects these decisions had on others.

My mother and father will never see their fathers alive again. And as a consequence their fathers said goodbye to their children forever.

“El pueblo” (small town) my parents and tias (aunts) often refer to in their stories of their childhood, is no longer the same.

Many of the familiar faces from their youth have either passed away, moved to “el otro lado” (the U.S.) and or left the pueblo due to violence.

Ultimately, I wonder what the lives of my parents and everyone with whom they had built relationships would be like.

Had they decided to stay in Mexico, I wonder if my father would have been able to work on the dysfunctional relationship he had with his own father.

I wonder how many amazing memories my mother would have created with her father. She’s always talked about how loving her father was.

My parents and their parents gave away so much of their relationships as we moved away.

I know for a fact that I would have been close to both my grandfathers.

My paternal grandfather, Jose Antonio, loved to read and was always up to date on world events.

My maternal grandfather, Pedro, worked in the fields all his life. Growing up my mother told me stories of her and her brother taking my grandfather lunch and how as he ate, they picked jícamas from the ground and ate them.

I share my grandfather, Jose’s, interest for books and it was my fondness for staying up to date on current events that led me to pursue a degree in journalism.

I feel the freest when I find myself on hikes away from the city. My life dream is to someday own a farm. I wonder how many conversations about agriculture I could have had with my grandfather, Pedro.

It’s interesting how even at a distance, I share so many of the same interests they had.

Feliz dia del papá, abuelos (happy fathers day, grandpas). Until we see each other again.

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