The golden statue, the man who pushes the boulder, those are its names. This object doesn’t have a real origin, but it came into my sweaty palms the day I left the home that I loved next to my house lived my friends, the first friends I ever had. They were an old married couple still arguing about the little things like when the husband reached his hand to get a biscotti from the jar “Norman stop it! You’ve had enough, go get something else to eat“ she would tell him as he looked at me with an expression that showed him laughing from the inside, winking at me then going back to his wife “Alright, alright“, I had been living in a little house next to my friend’s mansion, since I was 5 these houses were on top of a mountain. We lived there until they both passed away, not together, but first, it was one who left then the other. Once my friends were gone, their daughters came to evict us in order to sell the property. We had a month to get out. Once it was our final day on the mountain, one of the daughters came to me and told me “My mom and dad wanted me to give you this“ as she handed me a small box. In it were two things, a badge with an airplane it looked very sophisticated to wear. It was gold-colored as it shined in my hand reflecting the sunlight and another thing shone in the box. As I reached into the box pulling out something I had never touched before in my life--the golden statue pushing the boulder up not ever quitting., it felt lighter than I ever imagined. It was like holding an award., I held back my tears and said thank you.

– Kevin Michael Chavez Diaz

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