My name is Ramon. Just with that you may know a couple of things about me. Mexican background, speaks Spanish, and of course, likes enchiladas. Well, you are right. I was born and raised in Mexico. My past is beautiful. My present is boring. My future is uncertain. Life does not seem so good to me at this point in life. For some reason I do not want to be me. But we can discuss that later.
Mexico has and always will be the country of my heart. I may be dual-citizen, and I am truly thankful for it, but Mexico is my country, and nothing will change that. Probably I’m not the only one to think this way. Most of the people from foreign countries I’ve talked to that live here love and miss their hometowns, but opportunities are scarce. That is exactly one of the reasons I emigrated to America.
My story starts in March 13, 1993. My father living in America, my mom in Mexico working as a doctor. I grew up with my mom always with us, but my dad visited once every month, then once every six months and later we were the ones who had to visit him. My mom used to be very strict and wouldn’t let me go out and have fun since she just wanted me to stay home studying. That caused some resentment from me towards her, and we fought a lot. My only way out was my godmother, who was like my second mom, but I considered her closer than my actual mom. My godmother was always there for me and nobody else. We had each other, and nobody could change that. It was like mom and son should be. That made my mom’s relationship with me even worse. Even though my mom helped me a lot, I still didn’t consider her my mom. As years went by, my mom and I got closer, she was more lenient with my school and I could for the first time have a little bit of fun. When I talk about my family, I mean cousins, uncles, aunts, grandparents, parents, sisters, brothers, I mean everybody. We were a pretty big family back there in Mexico and that made my childhood so fun that I wish I could...