MAN NISTAM, but I want to be someone, someone better than what I am now. My familia came to California From Iran looking to better ourselves, but we always move from place to place to look for work on the farms. Every time we get to a new farm we set up a tent that we will live in. I know Im young, I can’t talk a lot of English, BEBAKH SHID, but I can understand it. Over the years, I’ve started to realize that in life I need to work as hard as I can just to survive, even though we never get paid enough to even eat. Ever since we moved to this plantacion,
I look at my reflection in the waters of the creek behind our little tent and I see the dirt on my face I look down at my worn clothes from good will store and think to myself, why are we so poor in the land of oportuNITEE? Chera chera? Why can’t we just move into the city? When I think of the city I always wonder what better things could be in store for me, I smile at that, but then I realize there aren’t any better chances here in this trum pee country. Every day is the same. I get up in the morning feeling pain from yesterday’s strain. I get changed into the same old leather boots that good will store dold me. I slip on a pair of jeans, toss on a shirt and head off to work. Nothing changes but I try the best I can to put on a straight face and stay happy, never showing my true emotion.
Today my family and I are packed up and are ready to move somewhere else again. The sun is as hot as ever during these summer days. Before we left I looked back to the place I called home, and looked at the creek and the fields across from it, I turned back to our carrito and looked at the dirt road. Here we go again. My prents told us that they heard of a nice farm in beverly hills that is offering workers a place to live in a house on the farm.
My mind rushes with thoughts as I picture a nice warm home with bedrooms, a kitchen. KHEILEE, KHOSHKEL. I want things to change once we get our own house. For the first time, I feel like there is going to be a good change in our lives. I always make friends on the farms, but once I get to know them, the harvest is over and my family needs to move to find more work. I keep telling myself that I will never say goodbye ever again, it is hard for me to say KHODAFEZ. Over time I have just stopped paying attention to the other kids and focused on my family, but maybe this time, maybe this time…it will be different.