March 2021 - Post 1
My parents (duh). They were undocumented for the first 20 years of my life and the significance of that has only recently sunken in. More than a decade ago, on an ordinary morning getting ready for school my mother received a call. In hindsight, she knew why; the news were reporting on a raid - where my dad worked. She flipped open her red razor Motorola that snapped into position when upright; her voice trembled, but somehow composed. "Ya vente. No te agarraron?" "C ome home. They didn't get you?" My dad, luckily was running late to work and he was never late. When he arrived the gates of his job clanked closed and no one was allowed to enter or leave the premises. He slipped through the grasp of "La migra". I don't remember if we went to school that day. Our day could have ended drastically different. My mom was left as the sole provider for myself, my brother and our two dogs. My dad left to New Mexico for a job so he could contribute a sma...