Personal Narrative: My Mother's Love With Mexico

I watched nervously as we got closer and closer to my mother's hometown. I stared out the window and I saw that the once huge green mountains and forest become little colorful concrete houses. As we passed by, I noticed the people walking on the streets. I saw people talk animatedly to each other, couples holding hands, a mother and her child buying fruit for breakfast. Huh, it's not that bad, I thought now more curious. Then I thought about the conversation my parents had before we left. “Está empezando a llegar a ser peligroso durante la noche y el camino. Robaron el coche de Blanca (It’s starting to become dangerous at night and on the road. They stole Blanca’s car)”, my mother said worriedly. “No se preocupe. Sólo vamos a tener que tener

Every time we would walk the streets, people would smile and tell us “good morning,” even if we were complete strangers. And the food was amazing. I loved that they would make everything homemade and we would all eat together, not going out and buying fast food. It was vastly different from home, people were so friendly and there was always something to celebrate. In December, they have a traditional dance, Los Chinelos, where everyone dances on the streets. In the beginning, there was a marching band playing all kinds of instruments. Following them, there were people in various costumes. There was a man wearing a costume of a monkey in a cage. There was another man wearing a woman in a fat suit. Others would wear these colorful cloaks with a picture in the front honoring the Virgin Mary. They would wear masks to cover their faces and they would all dance in unison. After them, there were people dancing behind them. Even in the heat, they danced for hours and rejoiced during the day. I found it amazing and I loved that everyone would go out of their homes and join them in dancing. I have never seen so many people unite and dance. Even my whole family was dancing with