At the tender age of twenty-two, my age, my mother came to the United States with nothing but the clothes on her back. She left behind her father and the big house she lived in. My mother was taught how to ride horses at the age of four years old and that is all she did. Since her father was too poor to send her to school, she only completed the sixth grade. In the house she lived in, she was in charge of taking care of the horses. My mother knew that if she came to New York City she would have to leave her horses behind. She told me she contemplated her decision for over six months. When she made her decision, it was for a better life. She wanted to make money and buy herself clothes. She always made her clothes and dreamed of having store bought clothes. However, since it was the city my mother knew she would not find any horses. This caused her sadness even though she knew her life would be a lot better if she followed through with her decision. When she arrived to New York City she stayed with a woman who treated her poorly and she always thought of her sweet horses to get her by. When she was pregnant with me she went through many traumatic events. During this time she made friends who knew of her love for horses. They would take her to horse barns in Albany and let her interact with the horses. I grew up like her, riding horses, learning to understand them, and eventually grew love for them. This photo represents the pass down of traditions because my mother learned how hard it is to hold on to them. 

– Cynthia-Paola

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