I was born in Mexico, in a small town where everyone used to know one another. It is one of Mexico’s “magical towns,” meaning old facades are preserved, cultural customs kept and tradition is observed. I swear this is an official term. Senguio is town where I was free to roam around and easily find neighbors or my cousins to play with. I was surrounded by family and friends, by landmarks that created memories I still draw happiness from. Some afternoons I would go play in “Las montañitas”, the little mountains which were actually small hills of grass in an empty lot near my grandmother’s house. Other days I would go to the soccer field and pretend that the trees surrounding it were my castle and I was the queen. If neither of those places sounded appealing, I was a very picky child, I would go play in my grandfather’s yard and name all the rabbits and chickens there.

Of course, I went to school, too. There I was a successful business owner. I sold my old hair clips to my classmates in kindergarten until my mom found out and lectured me. In elementary school, I painted nails and charged 5 pesos per person, if I was lucky I would get through three girls in one lunch period. I also sold oranges and soda (I know, weird combination), then I realized no one wanted to buy that so I started selling candy and snacks. That last one was the most successful one, even the school’s cafeteria told me to stop selling because I was earning more than them. I kept on selling. But when I wasn’t busy being a young entrepreneur I spent my recess running around the school with my friends. During the spring we would pick flowers and make crowns or necklaces with them, during the rainy season we would stay inside and draw on journals that we passed along to everyone.

My mom took me lunch every day but I had to go to the entrance of the school and get it from her because moms weren’t allowed inside the school anymore since an incident happened. Turns out two moms started fighting one time, slaps and punches along with inappropriate insults, and the children who saw got scared and started crying so since then, no moms allowed. The kids whose moms packed them lunch all sat together and peered at everyone’s food to see whose was better. I had a friend who always told me what his mom brought him but he would use weird fancy names for it and I would get jealous. Now I know it was just a peanut butter sandwich.

Weekends were my favorite because my mom and I would go to the city and eat pizza. Believe it or not, pizza was almost like a delicacy when I was young. And at nights my grandparents sold tacos in their food cart. You could smell the delicious scent four blocks away and I would run towards them and order three tacos al pastor. Since it was the weekend and I had free time I always went to my cousin’s house and play with her. We would be chemists and use my aunt’s soaps and fabric softeners until she caught us and took them away, because they were expensive. Or we would open our tortilla shop using squares of toilet paper as tortillas. For some weird reason my childhood dream job was working at a tortilla store, so that game was my favorite.

Senguio, the town I’m from, is still like my sanctuary even though it has changed so much; I have changed as well. I left my home and moved to a strange land were I had to mature in order to survive and succeed. I am thankful for my childhood in Mexico but also my present in America. I love remembering stories like the ones above and they make me appreciate my parent’s decisions in my upbringing. I love that I come from a small town where I was free and I love that I moved to a big city full of opportunities that I have taken advantage of. Some people criticize Mexico a lot, but that is because they don’t know stories like the ones I have just told.