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Personal Narrative: My Hispanic Mother

539 Words3 Pages
It is almost two in the morning, and we still have not been able to see her. Five days have passed by, and the presence of my mother was non-existent. School is out for the weekend; time to have fun and mess around and the sight of her brings a smile to our faces. The days fly by fast, and she goes missing once again. My mother, a successful and well-known doctor who had a promising future in medicine, dangerously decided to leave everything behind, along with my father, and move to the country that promised the “American Dream.” Growing up in a Mexican environment proved tough at times, ranging from the hilarious abuelita cussing in Spanish to getting a beating by la chancla. My Hispanic mother, as tough and strict as she was, had the most
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I watched nervously as we got closer and closer to my mother's hometown. I stared out the window and I saw that the once huge green mountains and forest become little colorful concrete houses. As we passed by, I noticed the people walking on the streets. I saw people talk animatedly to each other, couples holding hands, a mother and her child buying fruit for breakfast. Huh, it's not that bad, I thought now more curious.

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