The Promise

Relationship: Child of im/migrant
a golden ring
a golden ring

 Since the simplest times in my life, I’ve always valued the idea of promises. Oaths I share with those I love that hinge on a child-like honesty and innocence—interlocked pinkies in combination with verbal affirmations. As I got older, I learned promises could manifest physically in objects. Whether I was the gifter or the receiver, I would hold these items and promises close to my heart. I’d always believed that if I promised something, it meant that it had to be true. Growing up my familial relationships were challenging. While my siblings would attend school I would be left alone with my mother who was overworked and stressed. Oftentimes I would be her stress relief when my father was unable to come home. There was never anything we had agreed on, but when I had been given a ring from her with the promise that she would never hurt me, I believed it. It was the first piece of jewelry I’d ever received, a glimmering golden band that wrapped perfectly around my petite fingers. I found myself fidgeting with it every day, amazed at how it reflected sunlight so effortlessly. However, I would come to realize I was blinded by naivety and baseless trust for someone who had never earned it. When reality came crashing down on me, I should’ve expected it. My mom had broken her promise; the ring lost its magic.

Place(s): Las Vegas

– Zo

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