by Whitney Barthel posted in Life

When I was young, my mom hired a Nanny for our family. Maria was from Mexico and spoke almost no English.

The only thing I knew of Maria when she started taking care of my sister, brother, and me was that she preferred sweeping our carpet instead of vacuuming it, she couldn?t say ?thumb? correctly, and she made the most amazing flour tortillas.
Maria lived with us and we naturally grew to love her.
Then, one day my mom packed us all into our huge van with crates of food, packages of non-perishables, and three new bicycles.
?Mom, what are we doing with all this stuff" Who are those bikes for"?
?Those are for Maria?s kids. We are taking them to where they live.?
I could not believe that Maria had children. Why would someone leave their children to take care of someone else?s" We spent a long time driving through southern Arizona and eventually made it to the border. I was awakened by my mom yelling at us to hide the food. My brother threw a blanket over the oranges and I shoved the big box of Bazooka bubblegum under the seat.
A man started peeking into the windows with a flashlight. It was terrifying.
Eventually we were able to pass through and drove into Mexico to where Maria came from. We pulled up to a large tin-roofed warehouse-looking building and were quickly swarmed with children. Kids ransacking the van, pulling out the bikes and groceries. It was a spectacle. None of the many children knew how to ride a bike and they...