Immigrating to the U.S.

When I was 6 years old I came to the United States with two strangers. Even today I don't remember what they looked like, or their names.

I was just a child when I left Guatemala.

I remember crying because I didn't want to leave my grandparents, and I didn't know what was happening. My grandpa told me that I was his favorite granddaughter, and that I always would be. "Pase lo que pase el dijo siempre estaras en mi corazon," he told me with red eyes as if he were about to cry. 

At six, I had never even seen my mom, except in some pictures. From the pictures, I daydreamed about what life would be like when we were together -- dancing, playing soccer, cutting my Barbie's hair together. I thought my mom looked beautiful and like a good role model. One day she called and told my grandma that I was going to leave Guatemala. The next day I was on a plane with some strangers.

My mom said that she had contacted a young married couple who would help me to get in to the U.S. My grandma prepared me, saying that when the couple came to get me I had to act as if they were my real parents. I was terrified and excited at the same time, because I was going to see my mother for the first time.

But there were a lot of questions bouncing around in my head. How were some strangers going to know to take me to my mom? What if it was all an act for them to keep me and raise me as their own child? What if something happened to me along the way, and I would never get to see my mom or my grandparents again?

But before I could answer any of these questions, I was walking though the airport with these two strangers who were supposed to be my parents. A random lady came up to me and said, "Quien son ellos que vienen contigo?" Who are those people you are with?" I paused for a moment before I answered, "Ellos son mis padres."

"They are my parents."

With a perspective, I'm Guicela Sanchez.