Immigrant Love

In a small town, where half of the population leaves to the U.S., young girls are left with broken promises of love and marriage. They wait everyday for “the one,” many of them never return. This is the story of one girl who after five years still believes he’s going to come back.

You said you were gonna come back. You said you were gonna come back and marry me. It’s been five years and not even your mom has heard from you. You promised to her you were going to help her and send money. You promised me you were gonna save money for our house and our future. You promised me love, and I believed you. I was only 15 years old, but still now, I have hope that you will come back to me.

So many poems I wrote you, telling you I miss you and that the town is dead without you. They tell me you found another girl, maybe a gabacha, and that I should move on. I can’t. I want to come to California with you, and see why we all want to go there. How is it over there? Is it true that it’s so pretty that you get lost and forget about the promises of the past?

Over here everything is the same. This week there were four deaths. Juan Antonio, the dad of Jaime and Jesús fell from the bridge. We think he was drunk. David, the brother of Elizabeth and Brandon, passed away from cirrhosis. The guy from the convenience store died during the night and the lady that lived next to your house suffered a heart attack. I think she couldn’t handle anymore to hear bad news from over there. Have you seen her son? Is he really that bad?

Last week, it was the celebration of the Virgin of Rosario. It was pretty, but every year there are less men in the town. Many people got really drunk, as usual, especially those kids from middle school. My little brother reminds me of you. He can’t wait to finish middle school and leave. He says the U.S. is the only place to become someone.

I heard you’re not coming for Day of the Dead, again. I’m really looking forward to see you. I think five years was more than enough to save money. Omar came back last week and he was saying that you’re into drugs. I don’t believe him. Are you?

I think of you every day and dream about us every night. My dad wants me to forget about you and get married. He thinks I’m getting old.

I wish you had the courage to call me and explain why you forgot about me. I know sooner or later you will return home, and when you do, I’ll be here.


Te amo.