I’ve always admired my mother’s hands.  They’ve always seemed gentle yet strong. How she’s kept them soft after all these years of hard manual labor is astonishing. My mother immigrated to the U.S. in the 80’s, fleeing from the Contra War and the revolution that resulted in death, destruction and more poverty in an already poor Nicaragua. She arrived in California alone, with nothing. Like many immigrants, she was looking to survive. So immediately she began working.  There is much more to her story that I did not know at 6 years old when I first consciously noticed her hands, specifically the gold ring. Her right ring finger was very rarely without it. It is a solid thick gold band with small elephants adorning it. It was beautiful. Simple, no diamonds no gems, just gold. I loved it.  It wasn’t until I was older, and I asked about the ring that she explained it was one of the first gold pieces she bought for herself. She recently gave me the ring, quite casually with a "Here, it doesn't fit me anymore".  I was beyond excited; it had been 20 plus years of me admiring it! I picked it up, deciding to keep it on my right ring finger, very rarely taking it off, just like her. I will gently scratch my children’s backs and evoke all the calming feelings from them, just like she did to me. 
The ring doesn’t fit. Disappointing I know, but I now wear it on my necklace as a pendant. 

– kiara

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