Home Sweet Casa

It was dark and dirty as the migrants huddled together in the dirt. Every time the grass rustled or the brush moved tension rose among them. Could the sound be an alligator or a snake? Rey Santiago, just sixteen years old, knew the Rio Grande Valley was said to have a robust population of both. He observed how Mothers and fathers held their infants and children close to their chests in a protective embrace. He felt isolated and alone.

Rey, played with the bracelet the smugglers gave him to wear as proof he had paid the $6,000 in cash for his crossing. He couldn’t help but wonder, Why did this have to be my life? I miss my parents and it’s only been two months. The camp was tough. Lack of food, bed, roof. Real tough. I never had a birthday without my Mother. Must have been a hard day for her too. He adjusted his sitting position on the ground and leaned up against a tree taking in his surroundings and traveling companions.

You could almost smell the Rio Grande. They were so close. Rey studied the rudimentary map he had in his pocket. The river flowed from the San Juan Mountains of Colorado to the Gulf of Mexico. Mindful of the danger he was embarking on - aware many had lost their lives. Rey surveyed the Guatemalan and Honduran migrants. Fellow travelers, that along with him had waited for months in over crowded Mexican border towns. Finally the signal from the smugglers, their time had arrived.

The group rose from the shadows, gathered their few belongings and followed one another to the banks of the river. Rafts were being inflated to cover the distance of a football field to a new life. They would be able to put the governments of their countries, the gangs, and poverty behind them. The men were helping the women and children onto the floats and pushing them out into the current. The darkness was both comforting and frightening at the same time. Perhaps the dreams and hopes for them would come true. Rey joined the others in prayer for Jesus to help guide them.

Rey Santiago was one of the youngest men in the group. He had been haunted and hunted by gangs in Guatemala The same group of men that had taken the life’s of his two older brothers, Juan and Julio. Rey thanked God and his family for the money to make this possible. He couldn’t help reflecting, Madre and Padre you couldn’t live with the possibility that I would be lost to the gangs too. He felt anxious. His nerves were on edge. Would he ever see them again. His gaze turned to the men in charge. I don’t trust them. They will take the money and run. They have eyes of evil. They look through you as if you were nothing but a dollar sign. Rey’s mind could not be still. He made the sign of the cross, “In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, Amen,” he whispered taking the cross around his neck into his hand he raised it to his mouth and kissed it.

“Hey you, over here,” the man said in Spanish. He had a deep scar across his cheek, “Pull this raft across,” and handed him the rope to glide the group to the other side. Rey pulled off his well worn boots and tucked them inside his loose fitting plaid shirt. His feet sunk into the soft mud as he walked out into the water. “Just go straight to the other bank, help everyone off. Then run into the brush, stay low and walk toward the light. The town is Roma, Texas. Good luck, you’ll need it,” as he disappeared into the dark.

The mud was up to his ankles before he felt the water getting deeper. It was warm and felt good as it rose up to his shoulders. He had not bathed in days so the mud colored water still had a cleansing effect. Soon he was swimming and could almost make out the river bank. There was no moon to guide him, yet this was the perfect night light to make their escape from Mexico to Texas.

He pulled the raft up to the shallow water. His passengers began to jump off and run. Rey considered his options. Best to hide in the bushes. He laid on the ground looking up at the sky to see the lights from the town. People were running and others were hollering. “Stop this is the Border Patrol,” he heard them say over and over. “Stop,” men’s voices cried out in Spanish and English. He remained hidden. Soon the screaming and crying turned to silence. Rey waited patiently. He put on his boots. Finally, he decided to move out and began running till he found a gravel road. Always seeking the light. He didn’t see anyone along the way. Not another living soul.

He was just a kid. Filthy, tired, and hungry. Couldn’t read. Couldn’t write. He stood wearing the only clothes he had. Jeans and a cowboy plaid shirt with snap buttons. and his worn shit kicking boots. That’s it. Not a peso or a dollar to his name. What he did have was a good work ethic and a burning desire to get rich.

He eyed a cabin in a clearing with a light on. His hunger took over his fears and he walked up the road and looked in the window. An old man sat at a table eating his dinner with a book in front of him. Rey knocked and waited till the man rose and came to the door. “Whatcha want boy?” asked the man.

Rey didn’t know much English. So he motioned to his mouth and then his stomach. “Come on in,” said the man. Rey followed him in the door, the man motioned to a chair at the table. He brought out a plate with steaming corn, beans and chicken.

“Gracias, Señor,” Rey bowed his head said a quick prayer and began to push the food into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in days, which was quite true.

“Slow down, take your time. No need to hurry. I like the company,” the man shared, “Living out here gets lonely since my Emma died,” he had a soft voice and gentle expression. “Kind of nice having someone to eat dinner with for a change. Even if my guest doesn’t know what the hell I’m sayin,” he laughed.

Rey looked up and smiled. “No entiendo,” he said.

“Right, gotcha, you don’t understand me. Looks like you had a long trip from somewhere I’m guessing. Probably don’t have any place to go to. Would you like to stay here? Sleep in my old barn?” Asked the man, “You are welcome to.”

The old man grabbed a blanket and a lantern. When Rey was finished eating he showed him the way to the barn. “I’m Leroy Smithson,” he said pointing to himself, “And you are?” pointing to Rey.

“Me, Rey,” he said as they reached the barn and Leroy opened the heavy door.

"Here you go, Amigo,” Leroy smiled.

“Gracias, Señor Smithson,” Rey added as Leroy left for the cabin.

Rey gathered some of the hay on the floor made a bed out of it and laid down covering himself with the blanket. He was asleep in minutes from exhaustion.

Days turned into months, Rey learned English and Leroy was overjoyed with the kid. He was getting up in years and the boy’s help with the chores was most appreciated. “You are a fast learner. Every day I know I can depend on you.”

“Gracias, Mr. Leroy. You are a good friend to me,” Rey smiled.

The evenings were spent with teaching him to read and write. It was rewarding. Besides Leroy depended more and more on Rey. The bond was getting stronger. Rey was worried though. He was becoming comfortable. His needs were met but his goal was on the back burner. He needed to make a plan for his future.

One day, the ole man looked at Rey, “I’m alone. No wife, no children. You are all I have in my life. One day this cabin, the barn and the land will be yours. I’ve written it all up on this paper. I’m in my eighties now. More behind me than in front of me. You’ve been good to me and I’m comforted that you will have a place to call home. I’m beholden to you for your caring and I can even the score this way,” Leroy wiped a tear that was sliding down his cheek.

Life was good for them both. Leroy enjoyed the days with Rey. One day Rey woke-up, made breakfast and wondered why Leroy hadn’t gotten up at his usual time. He went into his room and found that he had past in his sleep. Peacefully, no pain, it was just his time. Rey buried him, as he requested on the top of the hill where he could see his land and his home. It was the perfect spot for him to rest. The neighbors and the Preacher were invited to pay their respects.

Rey, once again was alone. The papers had been filed in the Roma Town Hall. The land was his. He strode into the barn and put the shovel away and surveyed the interior space. Leroy had told him that people he had heard were using these old barns to grow a crop called marijuana. It wasn’t legal, it was profitable.

The old barn would be perfect. No one would suspect this barn with the hidden cellar under the floor boards. Leroy had already paved the way by introducing him to his neighbor, Benjamin, who already had a successful weed business. Surely he’d supply the seeds for the right price. Electric and water were easily accessed in the existing structure. He’d start with the insulation and the wiring. Next he’d order the lights and the other necessary equipment. Rey was finally on his way. He was still young, hardworking and committed. Rey smiled, “Mr. Leroy bless you. Not long ago I was just a kid who crossed the Rio Grande and now I’m going to be an entrepreneur, he glanced in the direction of the hill, “I miss you ole man.”

Slowly he walked to the cabin. Turning back he looked across his land. “I’m going to name this place S&S Farm for Smithson and Sanchez. Leroy would’ve liked it.” He went in and fixed some dinner.