To begin with I would like to thanks my father who was always there whenever I need him.
Since I was born my father has worked hard to give the best that the world can give to his children, he had 8 children, 4 boys and 4 girls, but unfortunately one girl died. She was about 9 months or so when that happened, no one ever talked about her, and I do not know why she got sick or why she died.
For 1 about one year we had no food and nowhere to go, my mom had to go out in the streets to beg for money and when she didn't get enough money she asked churches for some left over food.
My father started to make a lot of trips to the United States (not legally) to make some money to send to his wife, my mother, to buy what she needed. One day my father heard from a friend about a job at Las siete leguas, a factory where cowboy boots where made. With the money he made there he started renting a house, it was not the world greatest house, but it was modest and at least we had a place to live.
His manager heard about his conditions and found my father a house, it was the greatest house ever. It was a two-leveled house, with beautiful stairs that turned as you walked up them. It also had three bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a big living room, and a fine looking kitchen, it was the dream house of everybody. We lived there for about 3 years.
The year of 1988, my father came back to the United States and not less than 4 months he sent for us and we all immigrated to the United States, since then his whole family (me too) has lived here in Tucson, Arizona.
For his great desire of determination and his hard work to give the best to us, his children, I admire him.
I love you Dad