Anthony Peley Gonzalez

I still remember the smell of arepas on the morning my life changed. I was 13 years old when my mother and I, along with a group of people we barely knew, began the journey of leaving our country. I did not fully understand what was happening, but I could feel it — in my mother's silence, in the way the adults moved fast, like something was pushing them forward. The journey was not easy. There were storms along the way, and a long, tiring walk that tested every step. The hardest moment came when we were left behind on a mountain trail, with night almost upon us. I was scared. The jungle felt heavy and dark, full of sounds I did not know. But somehow, we kept going. We found our way out — tired and shaken, but safe. That experience never left me. I learned that even when things fall apart, even when the path disappears and the light fades, you keep walking. You carry your fear with you and you move forward anyway. That is what my mother showed me. That is what I will always carry — along with the memory of home, and the simpl