Mexico 1881
In a country taken over by a dictator set on making said country great by the cost of the lower class. That is my country. My homeland. After our great president passed nine years ago, General Porfirio Diaz took over as a ruler set on modernizing his country with the help of foreign powers. As Mexico city grew into a metropolis that would help the upper class, the rest of us-farm hands, peasants, and the like- we suffered.
Because of Diaz's government, there was inequality and because of the inequality, there was talk of revolution. So much so, that my grandfather had made the decision to send me away. In his mind safe from the growing tension between the social classes.
That is why I am boarding a ship to Europe. There we have a relative making a living in a London tavern. My grandfather, told me to find him and to stay safe until it he comes with the money to come over himself.
With a single luggage holding my most important belongings, my grandfather gave me his blessing, putting in my hand his mother's rosary beads and kisses my forehead, before pushing into the ship.
"Mira, Lucero, tengas cuidado. Te escribo cuando puedo, pero por favor tenga cuidado. Tu primo te vas está buscando cuando llegas. Quédate con el. Primero Dios llegó en unos meses después. Me lo prometes que te vas a cuidarte?" he begged gently his hands on my shoulders as he ensured I was prepared. He was keeping a firm expression on his face, but the glint in his warm brown eyes showed nothing but fear and worry.
"Si, abuelo, pero vas estar bien? Quien te va cuidar a ti? No puedes a pelear si se va ser un revolución. Ya perdí mi padre no te quiero perder a ti también." I held his hands in my own. Rough and wrinkled, years of hard labor marked in every in of his palms.
"Calma, niña, todo estará bien. Ten fe en Dios. El nos cuida. Ya, da te prisa" he urged letting go of my hand and pushing me towards the boarding line.
"Abulo!"
"Adiós, mija. Te quiero."
That was the last I would ever see of him.
I will add translation later