I could feel every bump and sharp turn the driver made, the hard cord floor the truck offered was not pleasing after the hours I had spent sitting there in pain. My baby sister screamed and cried all through our uncomfortable ride. My back ached and I wished again for the wish that was supposed to be coming true but seemed to never come. After every stop, I hoped we had finally arrived at our destination but it was always just to buy food or more gas to keep the truck running. Finally, the truck stopped. I began to stand but my parents told me to wait. Minutes, then an hour passed but I didn’t care. I knew this might mean we had arrived. The drivers boarded the truck again and tossed us some food and bottles of water. I couldn’t take it, all I wanted was to reach America and have the good life my parents had talked about for the past two years. When my sister was born, they decided we needed a better life and we would leave Mexico. The place where all of my relatives had lived and died. But I was glad we were leaving. America was a free country!
During the next few days, we stopped five more times, all of us hoping that we had finally arrived. But no, just more food was being consumed. Finally, the day came! The drivers put us in a special position and told us to stay very still. I froze while the inspectors searched the truck for people. When they left, the driver continued across the border. We had made it to America, and hopefully, a better life. We would bring our culture yet learn other people’s ways.