From a young age, I always wandered inside the beautiful homes of east side Cleveland. I would play with the various toys left behind by the children in school. Play on the vacant swings in the vast backyards of magnificent homes. The homes seemed enchanting, beautiful even compared to the cramped apartment that I shared with my mother. I always longed for the day that I would switch places with the children who lived in a castle of a house. But, I knew that that longing would never come true for my mother was a housekeeper of these magnificent homes.
My mother came to America for a chance at a new life, a new beginning for her daughter almost seventeen years ago. She came to America with little to no understanding of the English language or the culture itself. She was on her own, burning the daylight as she worked tirelessly to make ends meet. But, one day she found an older woman who offered her a job as her housekeeper. My mother learned many things from this kind old woman, including how to make a living as a housekeeper. So, she worked hard to be the best at what she is, and that was a housekeeper. As I look back on my childhood memories it consisted of smelling the chemicals she used to clean and polish the glinting bathroom floors, the loud roar of the vacuum, and the floating dust that I would stare at for hours on end until my mother told me it was time to move onto the next house. I would help my mother push the vacuum on the lavish carpet. And my little legs would carry the bucket of water my mother needed to clean the expansive floors of the beautiful home. But, I loved it.
As I grew older my mother always told me to work hard now so that I wouldn’t have to later. Many would think this as a great motto to follow, but I despised it. I would argue with my mother on how a child of an immigrant can get far in life. How someone with so little can become great. How by just working hard you could get want you want. I told myself that I did not want to work hard physically and toil like my mother did every day. So I decided that I would not work hard physically but mentally. I promised myself that I would work hard in school to make my mother proud, for she is the one who gave up so much and wanted nothing in return but the best for me.
The once enchanting, beautiful homes seemed impossible to grasp to the eyes of a young child of an immigrant. The scent of chemicals, the roar of the vacuum, and the flittering specs of dust no longer seemed like a limitation but, an opportunity. It showed me the value of work and how important my upbringing is to my identity. My upbringing is what made me who I am today. It is now the foundation of what I can become.
