Rocio S Romero
Bio
Stories (4/0)
EL INGENIERO RAÚL CHAMALÉ
My mother finally realized that the beatings she took from my father would never end and that the abuse was not just for her for for me as well. The day my father took a knife and put it to her neck after he had beat her, was the last time I ever saw my father put hands on her. I can still feel her whole body shaking as she held me close when we were asleep. In the morning she woke me up and told me to get ready because we were going on a trip. We could not say good bye to my father , he would never let us go. So I grabbed a little stuffed dog he had bought me and got dressed. My mother asked me to tie make a bow on the back of her dress for her because she could not reach. I grabbed the straps on each side of her dress and tied a knot, she asked that I make it tighter; she was so thin I could have wrapped those straps around her 4 times and still had enough to make a good size bow. We got to the airport and flew to Chicago. Life has never been easy for a single mother . The United States was so different from our home town in Central America. My mother worked grave yard and after about a year she decided I could not continue staying alone all night and most of the day while she slept. I was around 6 years old and needed someone to watch over me. She decided I would be better off with my grandmother. She said she had to stay and take care of some things but that she would be with me in two days. Those two days turned into 6 years.
By Rocio S Romero3 years ago in Psyche
Welcome to the end of your life
It was the year I turned 16, I remember taking a trip to the beach with my friend and her boyfriend in his convertible on the last day of school. The smell of the waves, the ocean breeze, the sand between my toes and the immensity of the ocean have always been my refuge, my medicine on difficult days, my happy place. Something about the way the colors change in the sky as the sun sets and watching the sun rise without fail every morning gives me hope of new beginnings.
By Rocio S Romero3 years ago in Families
A marriage destined to fail
My father was a drug addicted alcoholic and my mother a battered housewife. I remember how anxious I got when 4 o'clock came around because I knew my father would walk thru the front door at any minute and only God knew what mood he would be in that day. If maybe that would be the day he finally killed my mother from a beating. My mother never did anything to get away from him, she just took each beating and stayed. At 5 years old I called the police because my father had beaten my mother so severely I thought he was for sure going to kill her. When the police arrived and asked if she wanted to press charges her answer was, "no." I remember something inside me breaking that day. I lost all respect for my mother and hated the feeling of helplessness that invaded me every time he hit her while I watched without being strong enough or big enough to defend her.
By Rocio S Romero3 years ago in Families
The misunderstood child
I wasn't sure about where I was or why, all I knew was that my life went from cozy, comfortable and loving to cold, confusing and forgotten. At the age of 4 my mother came to the united states. Soon after, my father decided we would join her and that is how our journey began. Everyone spoke about opportunity and wealth; a better future for themselves and their children. The United States of America was where everyone came to get rich and famous. Anyone brave enough to begin the journey and make it was a God in the eyes of everyone who stayed behind. No one ever spoke of the price to pay and sacrifices made for daring to dream of a "better life".
By Rocio S Romero3 years ago in Motivation