The last time I stood at your door uncle, you welcomed me with open arms. I know that I am no longer welcome here but I hope that I have at least earned your respect enough for you to be able to listen to what I have to say. Years ago, I lived poorly as did you. Our families worked hard to be able to provide for us. My mother, after having been left by my idiotic father, had to do work in the field to earn enough money to feed, clothe and shelter my siblings and I. She was affected by the loss of our father as much as we were, but hid it for the sake of her children.
Sometimes though, her walls of fortitude would be broken and I would hear her crying in the kitchen when she though we were all asleep. She had a piercing stare, I remember. One time, when I was about 8 years old we were out on the streets selling dried corn when a young man smiled at us. I looked back at him, intrigued, but my mother shot him a dirty look and pulled me away as she was unable to trust men after what our father had done to her. But she always trusted you Pedro. She trusted you enough to send me on a long journey to get to you.
The U.S became a place where I could live a life worth living. You, my uncle, took me under your wing and gave me a home and a job where I was able to live without the constant fear of not having enough. You opened my eyes to the possibilities of the world. And now, you look at me in shame. Sure, you have your reasons. Just as I was starting to make good money to send back to my family, I left your company to start my own. It started out rocky but soon we started making money I never thought was possible. I don’t know what went wrong. We obviously weren’t doing as well as I thought. So, I made the decision for the sake of my company to use the money I had ready to send to my family. It was in vain, the company still collapsed.
Now, looking back, I realise and