I remember the moment I came to America. I was 6 years old, living in Guatemala. I was with my mom, and together we traveled by car and on foot. I will never forget that day — it was really hard and really scary. First, we gathered what we could carry, which wasn't much because my mom was pregnant. We made our way to the meeting point, but that was where things got harder. We had to split up and go separate ways. My mom and I stayed together because she was pregnant and couldn't carry my baby sister at the same time. My sister had to go with my stepdad instead. My mom and I passed through several places along the way. One that I will never forget felt like being inside a box — it was freezing cold, and the only thing they gave us to eat was grape juice and burritos. I think that is why I still love that juice to this day. When I feel thirsty, my  ...