From my beginning I was a part of my parents
I worked those fields and so did my siblings maybe not the last one but still we endured
Those early mornings
Tiring hours
Exhausted bodies
We were a team
I find that we are still a team
I got no hate for this country my country even when I am from farther up
I've lived here longer than I can remember
I can say
I've done that
I've felt that
I remember those days
Mornings...
I know what it feels to work before finishing school
I know how different your hands change
How breathing feels too bad that you don't want to exhale
That was life
How things have changed
I was one of you field workers
I heard in a song by a Latin singer
That a farmer doesn't pick up arms
Our nature isn't to bite the hand that feeds
Our skin color deems us but it doesn't mean we are invisible
Like that movie
A day without Mexicans
Who are we to fight to gain something that is free
A salary makes a difference
A job does too
This land only gives because you give an essence or something back to it
YOU ARE READING
REASONS
General FictionShort writing yet inspiring A child's perspective of early work Difficulties that happen Something to think about and for you to be grateful that it wasn't your story If it is your story too then we know how those conditions were and what we faced
