I think a lot gets lost in translation, but here is my translation of the previous blog entry.
It’s hard when one comes (to the U.S. from Mexico).
One time when we were threshing wheat in the time of harvest, I lasted ten days without seeing my children while living with them. I would leave (the house) before six and return at eleven when everyone was in bed. I would eat and take a shower/bath. That was one of the difficult things that happened to me.
One comes and leaves everything over there. When I arrived in the U.S., I came in June and Concha’s father died two months later. I was unable to go. Eduardo Torres passed away. My brother Enrique’s wife Edubijes passed as well. All of that – one comes over here and leaves everything and everyone over there.
That day in November when they arrived to my surprise, Blanca was two years and a half old. In Mexico I had a horse carriage to help me bring fodder from the other side of the creek. My daughter Blanca regularly followed me. When she arrived here, four months without seeing me, Blanca was very bitter. We would sit at the dinner table, and she would turn and look the other way. She neither wanted to speak to me nor look at me. Little by little I won her trust again. It’s hard when one comes to the U.S. because of these unexpected things that happen.
It has gone well for everybody. I can’t complain. I have you all. We don’t have much, but we have you guys well-off. It has been worth it.
Now if I die, you don’t need me. You guys are no longer children. Why should we complain? (in other words we have no reason to complain).