My ancestral roots are far from this part of the world.
My father was born in a small mountain town called La Junta. My abuelos moved themselves and their many children to Chihuahua in order to find work in the city, farming wasn't cutting it anymore. At the age of 15, my father hitchhiked to the Texas-Mexico border and crawled through a hole in the fence. He ended up in Houston where he met my mother.
My mother and her family were nomads. Moving from Reynosa to Mcallen to Houston, never staying put anywhere. My Abuelita and Abuelo met each other when they were running away from their lives. My 18 year old Abuelita escaped her motherless household and alcoholic father. My Abuelo left a second failed marriage and a dead infant son. Monterrey to Reynosa. Abuelo worked in Texas, sending money to his large family. My father says my mom was working class wealthy. The US dollar goes far in Mexico.
My people are restless but settled in Houston and the borderlands of South Texas. Both sides are plagued by mental illness, alcoholism, and trauma. We were never the good immigrant family making tamales together around the holidays.
Virginia is not where I'm supposed to be. Now that my baby brother is going to college soon, my parents talk about finally leaving. My mother would like to go back to Texas while my father is content with following her wherever.
Saira is always trying her best and loves fancy candles. She is figuring things out in Richmond, VA.