A Mile in My Shoes (Chapter I)
To the citizens of the world,
Immigration. Why have we made it a dirty word? We all have an opinion. While we argue our righteous opinions on Facebook, watch our favorite Netflix shows, and carry on with our daily lives, millions of illegals enter the country everyday and steal our jobs and ruin the country. Or do they?
No country wants criminals, native or nonnative, or those who leech off the system. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to get rid of the criminals that were born here. But how can we tell if a person or family will benefit our society, illegal or not? Will these immigrants cross the border, quickly find a job, and work hard? Will they attempt to learn English? Is it our problem they have issues within their own country?
We, as Northern Americans, take for granted our freedom of mobility. We take for granted our democracy and although our government is far from efficient, we still have many freedoms and safeguards that others around the world do not enjoy. Citizens of other countries cannot save up money and travel freely. Often, even when they have money, our government will not allow them to visit.
Lucky and privileged as I am, I have traveled to many places and seen many things. I speak with others all the time who want to travel, some to live, but many others just to visit and see the beauty of the United States. Immigration is a divisive issue, one not easily solved.
Puma is one such man, a hard-working Peruvian who dreamed of the United States. Each week over the next couple of months I will release a chapter of the short story I wrote about him. I offer no solution to the immigration issue, but just one man’s story…
I
Dark outside, not quite 4am. Puma rolled over his worn body to view the alarm clock. Bright red digits glowed intensely against the black of night to let him know he had at least an hour more of sleep if he desired it. Instead, restless and fully aware of the day ahead, he quietly rose up out of bed to avoid waking his wife.
Barely asleep five hours and still groggy he walked to the kitchen and began brewing a pot of coffee. Softly and unconsciously he whistled ‘San Francisco’, the hit 60’s single by Scott McKenzie.
(Chapter II next week…)
