Parker's Lament
Title: Parker's Lament
Length: Two pages
Genre: Fiction
Summary: Characters background
LJ Cut:
"I've become a different person since we came to America. In Mexico I went to school with the highest marks in my class, and played fútbol with the other kids, but I used to hear all the grown-ups say, 'American is bonita,' and that 'we could have a better life for us and our children if only we could get across the border.'
"When Papá was denied for a visa he decided we should migrate to America on our own." At this point Parker decided to make his glass of lemonade from the mantle and sit down on the high-backed chair next to Mr. Reiley's desk. He sighed from the heat that drowned the brightly lit room, and fanned himself with the large manila envelope he was holding before continuing.
"We left our home at four in the afternoon-that's when migrants usually leave for the border. Papá gave me a long speech about how hard it would be and since I was a man now, I couldn't cry and I had to prove how strong I could be on this trip.
"My pregnant Mamá left Nogales, Sonora in a taxi cab earlier that morning with my baby brother, Pedro. I later learned many migrants do this: they hire a taxi to take them a mile south of a Border Patrol checkpoint and then the rider will get out of the car, walk through the desert a mile, then north for another two miles and then the same taxi cab driver, having gone through the checkpoint, will wait for them alongside the highway or access road off Interstate 19 in Nogales, Arizona to take them to Phoenix.
"But that is not how I came to America. A group of men, my father and I included, followed a man known as Líder, who had walked the route before, which had been handed down from one generation to the next. We mapped our way through the Barry M. Goldwater Range using only geographical landmarks and mountain ranges. At night there was enough light to see your way but more than once we stopped after someone walked into a Prickly Pear or a Cholla cactus and we'd wait for them to pull the thorns out of their leg or shoe."
Parker took a long sip of his cold lemonade, the memories of that hot desert made him thirstier. He wiped the tan skin around his mouth with his wrist and unconsciously began to tap the palm of his hand onto the arm of the chair. "It was a total of 187 miles from our home to Phoenix and we walked the whole way, from four in the morning until eight at night.
"Being only seven years old at the time I didn't last very long. Many of us were used to the heat and didn't notice its effects until we became dehydrated. Your muscles become cramped from the lactic acid and from the number of hours you're standing upright. You get dizzy, feel nauseous. You can't hold down water. When I started getting symptoms I lasted only two hours and then I fell to the ground. I didn't care if I ever made it to America.
"I woke up later that night draped over Papá's shoulder but even he was starting to stumble. We only just made it to Interstate 8 because we heard the sound of cars whizzing by only miles away and the air was starting to cool. We made it to Phoenix, covered in sand, sweat, blood and cactus thorns, loosing only two men to the grim cactus country."
Length: Two pages
Genre: Fiction
Summary: Characters background
LJ Cut:
"I've become a different person since we came to America. In Mexico I went to school with the highest marks in my class, and played fútbol with the other kids, but I used to hear all the grown-ups say, 'American is bonita,' and that 'we could have a better life for us and our children if only we could get across the border.'
"When Papá was denied for a visa he decided we should migrate to America on our own." At this point Parker decided to make his glass of lemonade from the mantle and sit down on the high-backed chair next to Mr. Reiley's desk. He sighed from the heat that drowned the brightly lit room, and fanned himself with the large manila envelope he was holding before continuing.
"We left our home at four in the afternoon-that's when migrants usually leave for the border. Papá gave me a long speech about how hard it would be and since I was a man now, I couldn't cry and I had to prove how strong I could be on this trip.
"My pregnant Mamá left Nogales, Sonora in a taxi cab earlier that morning with my baby brother, Pedro. I later learned many migrants do this: they hire a taxi to take them a mile south of a Border Patrol checkpoint and then the rider will get out of the car, walk through the desert a mile, then north for another two miles and then the same taxi cab driver, having gone through the checkpoint, will wait for them alongside the highway or access road off Interstate 19 in Nogales, Arizona to take them to Phoenix.
"But that is not how I came to America. A group of men, my father and I included, followed a man known as Líder, who had walked the route before, which had been handed down from one generation to the next. We mapped our way through the Barry M. Goldwater Range using only geographical landmarks and mountain ranges. At night there was enough light to see your way but more than once we stopped after someone walked into a Prickly Pear or a Cholla cactus and we'd wait for them to pull the thorns out of their leg or shoe."
Parker took a long sip of his cold lemonade, the memories of that hot desert made him thirstier. He wiped the tan skin around his mouth with his wrist and unconsciously began to tap the palm of his hand onto the arm of the chair. "It was a total of 187 miles from our home to Phoenix and we walked the whole way, from four in the morning until eight at night.
"Being only seven years old at the time I didn't last very long. Many of us were used to the heat and didn't notice its effects until we became dehydrated. Your muscles become cramped from the lactic acid and from the number of hours you're standing upright. You get dizzy, feel nauseous. You can't hold down water. When I started getting symptoms I lasted only two hours and then I fell to the ground. I didn't care if I ever made it to America.
"I woke up later that night draped over Papá's shoulder but even he was starting to stumble. We only just made it to Interstate 8 because we heard the sound of cars whizzing by only miles away and the air was starting to cool. We made it to Phoenix, covered in sand, sweat, blood and cactus thorns, loosing only two men to the grim cactus country."