Like Mother, Like Daughter
By Jasmin Flores

My mom gave birth to me a month before her 18th birthday. Though she was young, that didn’t hinder her desire to be the mom she wanted to be as well as the mom I deserved. As far as I can remember, my mom has always been my best friend. She went to college and worked at a supermarket; trying her absolute best in both and succeeding in getting her Associate’s Degree in Respiratory Therapy. I remember I graduated from Pre-School at the same time she graduated college and we took professional pictures of us in our cap and gown together. I was so proud of her, just as she was with me.

She got a job at a hospital at the same time I was entering 1st grade. She used to work the night shifts back. She would drop me off at school in the morning and my grandparents would pick me up from school. I recall her being upset that she wasn’t able to help me with my homework a few days out of the week because she was working and I told her, “Mom, the sick people need you to help them get better. You should be there and I’ll try my best here.”

Through out the years we’ve grown to be each other’s main support as well as become the other half to each other. If I didn’t have my mom, I’d feel as if I had been cut in half. She is the yin to my yang, so to speak. I’ve told her things that I’ve never told anybody else. I have best friends but when someone asks me who my absolute best friend is, I say my mother. We’ve gone from her teaching me how to walk to her teaching me how to drive. I’ve learned so much from her and she says she has learned a lot from me. Before I was born, she was a pushover and was afraid to speak for herself. Now she is single-handedly the most independent and strong woman I know. She has raised me by herself from the get-go and I think she’s done a terrific job. I’m a straight A student going to a prestigious school and I’ve solely worked this hard to make her proud.
To me, my mom is my idol. She is the person I look up to because she embodies everything a good person should have. Unlike celebrities, she has shown me what being a good person with good morals should be. She pushes me to try my best, not just in school but in all aspects of my life. She has shown me that I need to be independent so I can do anything I want in life.

My Mom’s Story
By Angela Reganit

Do you know someone who is great? Spends time with you? Cares for you? And is an important person? Well, I do; she has black hair, brown eyes, and a caring touch. That’s my mom, Grace Reganit.

She is the one who carried me in her womb for nine months without a single sigh.
My mom is the one who takes all kinds of pain and cares for my sake. When I am sick, she spends sleepless nights beside me. She has always guided me in the right path in every step of my life. She has taught me and disciplined me. My mom has taught me the sense of duty I should have towards others in the family and in society.

My mom is an ordinary woman but in her small presence lies an extraordinary figure of fortitude, perseverance, and strong mindset. She is a diligent and determined woman who has guided me toward taking the right direction by following my own path. More importantly, she has helped me appreciate myself as a precious gift of ordinary life and true happiness.

My mom is the best woman in the world and no one can replace her in my heart. I admire her so much. She is always busy with house chores and taking good care of me, my sister, and my dad, but I never hear her say that she is tired. Every day, she is the first person in my family to wake up very early. Then, she makes breakfast for everyone. When my dad goes to work, my sister and I go to school. My mother stays home and does all the daily chores while we are gone. When we come home, there is always a delicious dinner waiting for us. My mom is the last person to take a break after such a long day.

Mom, you gave me everything but you never ask me to pay you back. You are the best, the greatest woman in this world, and in my heart, I love you forever. I am happy when I have you by my side to take care of me, to protect me and to give me your love. I am happy that you are my mom. In the future, I will be a successful adult in life, but in your eyes, I know that I will always be your little kid.

Mommy’s Girl
By Samantha D. Martinez

Ever since I could remember I was always a “Mommy’s Girl”, but my mom wasn’t just a “mom” she is also my teacher, best friend, hero, and more importantly my “partner in crime”. Since I’m an only child I have no brothers or sisters to talk to about sorts of stuff you wouldn’t tell your parents, but my mom is different. I can tell her everything. She is honestly that big sister I never had.

My mom is not only my “partner in crime” she is also my teacher. After working an eight hour job in a hospital, she rushes home to cook my father and I a warm meal. Afterwards, she helps me with my homework. Even though sometimes she doesn’t understand it, she will teach herself the lesson and then explain it to me the best way she can. Also, if I ever have a question or advice she will give me guidance from her experiences so I won’t make a mistake. Even though I disagree with her ALL the time, in the end I realize she was right.

My mom is also my best friend. She’s always there when no one else is; when I’m sick she gives me everything I need and if I’m lucky what I want. I can trust she won’t stab me in the back like other people would. I trust my mom.

Lastly, my mom is my “Super Woman”. She does so much! She cooks, cleans, washes, and works. I can barley handle waking up for school. When I grow up I would be lucky enough to become half of the woman my mom is.

But my mom isn’t just my hero, partner, etc. She is a hero at work and in my family as well. Coming from a house with three siblings, a mom and a dad, and a grandma and grandpa, my mom made the impossible POSSIBLE. She wasn’t a straight “A” student, but more like an A, B, C, D kind of student. Her parents only knew Spanish and did not have an education. My mom and her brother and sister had to do their homework on their own. She didn’t want to work at McDonalds and neither did she want her siblings to work there. Being the youngest, she was the one they looked up to — even today. My mom helps my aunt and uncle with money, advice, and guidance. She is like their 2nd mother in my eyes.

At work she helps others that need it, like translating or learning something new and simply by just being their friend. My mom doesn’t do this by force, it’s in her naturally! I admire this about her so much. I see other moms that do not fulfill their duties as a mom and their child suffers at the end. I thank God everyday for giving me a mother/woman like her.

It is universally acknowledged that it’s not easy for human beings to step out of their comfort zone, especially while adding the challenges of learning a new language, making new friends and getting accustomed to a new lifestyle.

I learned that lesson early in life, at nine years of age when I left my friends and family behind in my hometown of Buenos Aires, Argentina. Although I did not fully realize what future awaited me in the much-fantasized United States, I packed my most precious toys and held my parents’ hands while my brothers skipped along the airport walkways, leaving a group of sobbing relatives behind.

It was about a year prior to our big move that I answered the phone call that would change our lives. As soon as I picked it up, I knew it was someone calling from U.S.A. and I was ecstatic to hope that my dad would be taking us all there on a trip. My mom, brothers, and I rushed into the living room and huddled around my dad while he spoke in broken English, constantly grinning at us. Little did I know that our “trip” was going to last an indefinite amount of time. It turns out that my dad had been offered a job in a town we had never heard of: Austin, Texas. Nevertheless, my parents could not pass up an opportunity for their kids to succeed in a First World country, especially with the economy in Argentina spiraling downward. It took us several months to sell almost everything we owned and pack up the essential belongings we just couldn’t leave behind. I celebrated my ninth birthday crammed into my aunt’s apartment with everybody that mattered to me, and two days later we were off. I would now be thousands of miles away from them.

Leading up to our moving day, my mother started having terrible nightmares of the family arriving in Texas and seeing nothing but tumbleweeds rolling down abandoned streets. Alas, as soon as we arrived all of our pre-existing stereotypes disappeared. We spent the first two weeks sleeping in a hotel suite, and by day we were house hunters. After a lot of hard work, the home we ended up renting could not have been more perfect. Equipped with a large backyard, something we never had while living in an apartment in a city of 12 million people, the house also came with new friends. It was located on a corner with a cul-de-sac across the street that consisted of three different households with children our age. I did not speak much English, but with various hand gestures and lots of laughs, I had made my first American friends.

Our move took place in April, and since the school year in Argentina is from March to December, I had long finished third grade and had until August to start fourth grade. My parents, however, always thinking of their children first, had arranged to have my brothers and I attend the last two weeks of classes at Patton Elementary School, where we would officially start the following Fall. The point was for us to meet other students, get to know the teachers, learn more English and become familiar with the school grounds. For me, personally, it was torture.

I hadn’t fully recognized the change in my life until I was exposed to the American classroom culture, and my first experience with that was when I attended those two weeks of school. Everything was so different. The students’ faces were not the ones I had spent the last years getting to know. People were talking in another language. I did not comprehend the assignments. The school day lasted longer. Everything was off and I wanted to be home with my mom. That tough day lead to another, which went by faster than the first, and then another, which went by even faster. Before I knew it, the trial weeks were over and I had survived.

It took me the whole summer of 1998 and the first few months of fourth grade to accept and enjoy the fact that I was now a resident of the U.S. Thanks to my absorbent nine-year-old brain, learning English was relatively easy and within a year, I lost all traces of a Spanish accent. By the time Halloween rolled around, I had at least five close friends with whom I felt I’d known for years. I learned that kids were accepting of foreigners and were interested to get to know me. I started celebrating holidays we never had in Argentina, like Thanksgiving and Valentine’s Day. There were definitely days when I missed my family and friends terribly, and several nights when I begged my mom to move us back. Little by little, one day at a time, I began to like my new life in Texas and appreciate the one I’d led and left behind in Argentina.

Editor’s Note:

Her story among the experiences of thousands of immigrants who leave their country to come to the U.S. each year. Many people move to the United States for so many reasons, and each one holds as much importance as the next.  An estimated 13.1 million immigrants were legal permanent residents in 2011 according to the Homeland Security website.  Starting a new life in a place where everything is foreign to you is extremely difficult, but sometimes it’s a better living than what you were used to. Sometimes it’s more difficult for some than for others. It’s not always easy trying to live in a new place, but as you adjust you see your new world through a different perspective.