Perez leading a student protest she organized in 2019
From Here and From There
by
Naomi Perez WRIT 1133: Writing & Research | Professor Kamila Kinyon
WHEN I WAS EIGHT YEARS OLD, I DIDN’T UNDERSTAND the concept of death. I could not imagine that the end of one person’s life could trigger a series of events that would upend my entire existence, shaping the person I would become. But one night in 2009, it happened. I was living in Albuquerque, New Mexico. It was the only home I’d ever known. My family lived there, and so did my friends. Life in Albuquerque wasn’t perfect, but it was happy. As a second grader, my most pressing worries concerned when the next Hannah Montana episode would air. I spent most days with my extended family when my mom was at work. After her shift ended late in the evening, she’d pick me up and take me home. She worked hard to support us. On weekends, we would go to Chuck E. Cheese to make up for all the time we’d missed during the week. I was happy with our life together. We got the news that my grandfather passed away late one evening. He lived in Madera, a city in Chihuahua, Mexico, where my mom grew up. We packed our bags and set out on a journey to cross a border I never knew existed. In those first days in Mexico, I thought I was starting to understand loss, as I said goodbye to my beloved grandfather. Then, my mother broke the news: hers was a one-way trip. She could not return to Albuquerque. I had a choice, go home alone or stay in Mexico. VOLUME 10
5
