She was an eighteen-year-old young adult.
Her hands realizing the feeling of broccoli, garlic, tomato, and cilantro.
The California sun piercing her back.
Her day beginning at five am.
Her family only 2,198 miles away.

He is a 34-year-old man.
Building and placing shingles on homes for a living.
The Southern sun beaming intensely on his back and hands.
The hands of a hardworking man once pierced by one nail of the thousands he placed.
Tireless nights of sleeping in foreign homes was what awaited him.

Salisbury, North Carolina, November 2001
1st Child
Salisbury, North Carolina, December 2003
2nd Child
Two children born of mestizo blood.
Two children with ties to our mother Tonantzin.
Two children who would further this couples joy.
Two children who would be the cause for sacrifice.
Two children born with skin the color of dirt, so that life may grow from them.

Their home bought with pain.
Bought with blood.
Bought with tears.

The children starting to grow and intertwine with the society they lived in.
Them being unable to mingle with their peers, for their tongue was a passionate and fiery one.
This tongue would prove to be the strongest weapon they had.
Yet this weapon was frowned upon.

ILLEGALS!
BORDER HOPPER!
SPEAK AMERICAN!

Relentless abuse.
Fear for life.

The feeling of stupidity overcoming them both.
Becoming familiarized with “I’m sorry, I can’t understand you.”
The tears of a young mother, coming to her 10-year-old, weeping, “I’m stupid”
Her child oblivious to the pain she feels

The pain of this family has made them push through.
The xenophobia only made them stronger.
The racism only made them wiser.