It was a gleaming day and my mother was sitting in the front yard. The grass was young and the sprinklers were going off. I walked out to the front yard to see my mother sitting on chair. She was talking on the phone and she had a heavyhearted look on her face. She started to cry. I did not know what was going on. After what seemed to be the longest phone call, my mother hung up and started to cry like never before. We both continued crying even thought we I didn’t know what was happening. I finally found out that my grandmother had a tumor in her head and she had to be operated on. My mother and I felt completely helpless. “Que hago?” (What should I do?). I had so many things to say, yet nothing would come out of my mouth.

My mother had an immense decision to make; she could either go to Mexico alone with my newborn brother, or she could stay with us and risk the chance of never seeing my grandmother again. After some ruthless hours, my mother decided she would leave and my siblings and I would stay here. I was now in charge of my whole household.

I had to cook, clean, wash, and everything else that mothers do. I was barely going to turn seventeen and I did not feel mature enough to handle a home. After some gruesome months of being in charge of my family, I noticed I had grown up. I now knew that I would have to work hard to accomplish my goals. That month I became mature, more responsible, and I learned that I could overcome any obstacle that came in my way.