The object I chose is my grandfather's bicycle. The very one he rode with my father the day before my father came to the United States. Together, they biked from Puebla to Mexico City, a journey of about 85 miles for context, to visit the Basilica of Guadalupe. Their journey was a prayer for protection and strength. My father was only 16 when he moved to New York City. I'm 19 now, and I can never imagine leaving everything I know and love behind to start over in a new place that spoke a different language, used different currency or yet alone by myself.  He’s been here for almost 30 years. His own bike was eventually sold when his family needed money, but my grandfather’s bicycle still remains in our home in Puebla. Though my grandfather never came to the US himself, that bike is the last physical memory my father has of his home. After my grandfather's passing, it became even more meaningful. To me, it serves as a reminder to the faith, courage, and love that carried my father across the border. 

– M

Relationship:  Child of im/migrant Child of im/migrant