New Hope In the new World

“The bridge of Progress” that seperates Mexico from the Rio Grande in Texas. Photo Credit: Getty Images

“We are blessed here in the United States, Mija (my daughter),” said my mother through the entity of my life. Although she is right, like always, the nuance of the statement always seems to find its way back to the surface.

At a young age, the decision to come to the US became more prevalent than ever. My country was no place for a young girl, like me and in a sense my mother-to-be. Although the journey would be hard, death would be harder for either one of us. Years later, I would discover that this was not my mother's first trip. My mother, the second daughter of eight, was a child of farm workers in one of the most rural areas of El Salvador. Yet, against all the odds, she clawed her way to the top and was one of two daughters to finish her bachelor's degree in Secretarial Affairs from ENCO. Two months later, she departed for the United States. 

My Mother and her friend in the early 80’s. Photo Credits: Unknown

“La guerra cambió todo, mija,” (The war changed everything my daughter) she would say in vague detail. My mother was never fearful to tell me stories of the war. In her eyes, her country became a gravesite with only distant memories separating the girl from the woman. God had become the judge, jury, and executioner of those who kept and lost their lives. My mother never forgot that, and much like everyone else decided to migrate. 

Within her journey, she mentions luck quite a bit. The same luck that protected her four times from death in the war and the same one that made her journey as manageable as possible. “A plane from El Salvador to Baja California, I got put in the trunk of a car and somehow after hours ended up in an area of San Diego.” 

Although she had made it safely to her destination, my mother never felt at home, a sentiment she would pass on to me. She had found a partner and had her first child here in the United States. Life started to stabilize within my mother, but fate had another plan. My mother's first trip did not have her in the US long, yet she had left her hopes and dreams in the United States. With a new child and a new life partner, she was sent home by forces larger than her. 

Yet, there my mother sat with me, deciding the fate of my life. By the end, she had made up her mind, that we would return not only to her hopes and dreams but to create mine as well. Years later, we talked about the choice she made on our behalf. One of the toughest conversations we had not as Mother and child, but as two adults.

It is not my job or position to pass judgment on my mother. All of the choices she made were for our mutual growth. Yet, it has never left our mind just how much this journey impacted is both. On June 7th, my mother and I would make the trip once more, thus keeping our hope in a new land.