My father is someone who I strongly admire not because he is my father, but because of his story. Just like other immigrants, he came to the United States for an opportunity and a better lifestyle for his future family. The opportunity of becoming a United States citizen came true, while other immigrants do not have a citizenship, it is unlikely for them to succeed and find a job within the United States.
When he came to the United States at the age of 16, he worked everyday from sunrise to sundown in the fields. Unfortunately, the field workers' wage was not enough to support themselves financially. Due to my father’s financial struggle, his only shelter was sharing a one-car garage with eight other immigrants. In the one-car garage, it included a bathroom, a kitchenette, and carpet flooring, which is where the immigrants, including my dad slept in sleeping bags. When he got his citizenship, he was able to find a better job and travel back to Mexico to visit his relatives.
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My parents traveled from Guadalajara, Mexico to Tijuana, Mexico by car to arrive at the coyote’s place to then transport them in a compact car to the United States. In the trunk of the car, my dad and other immigrants were piled onto each other as if they were carpet rolls. Once they arrived at the United States, they struggled financially because my father had to maintain my mother and their upcoming child. Both of my parents had to work in my father’s small gardening business, which he started in order to maintain each