“I like too many things and get all confused and hung-up running from one falling star to another till I drop. This is the night, what it does to you. I had nothing to offer anybody except my own confusion.” 

-Jack Kerouac

Phew, here I still am. I think of my journey. My parents who brought my sibling and I to this country that loves to hate us. Just for being. But that's not the beginning. The start is on dirt roads in small mountainous villages in Mexico. My love for dirt and mountains is unmatched. Bare feet stepping on cactus needles. My favorite memories are of my mother, when I thought she was strong, maybe she's always been. When she pulled each and every needle from my tiny feet. I think she has spent my life time trying to make sit still. To make me sit like a lady, No running with bare feet. The scars that adorn my legs and body start there. Running. Falling on jagged rocks to keep up with the boys or they were trying to keep up with me. Throwing rocks at lizards. I always had good aim. We sat under the canopy of trees. The dirt coming up in puffs as we shifted our bodies. Eating tunas until our tongues and hands turned red. I'd lie on the grounds like this for hours until I got sick. But only in the dirt could I find the quiet. I have never been able to sit still. I could never still the curiosity. I wanted to know where the road ended from our tiny village. I wanted to know where it went beyond the town we shopped for food, and shoes when we could afford it. When we finally arrived here. I swore off learning English, and promised to only eating beans with tortillas. That first slice of pizza was too sweet, like candy. But that Milky Way....