My Beginnings When I was an infant, my parents, Lydia Morales Gutierrez and Rolando Gutierrez, left me in Reynosa, Tamaulipas, Mexico with my grandmother, Juana Morales. At that time, I was named San Juanita Gutierrez after my grandmother. She looked after me until I was nearly 3 years old. My mother, father, and sister Laura went to Orlando, Florida to work at a car manufacturing plant. They brought Laura because she was old enough for school. While in Florida, they were involved in a car accident. Laura was standing in the back seat, talking to our parents without a seatbelt. A semi-truck carrying irrigation pipes slowed down suddenly. Distracted by conversation, my father didn't notice the truck until my mother yelled. Despite his efforts to stop, it was too late. My father slammed on the brakes, swerved, and stopped. He got out, yelling, ran to the passenger side, and kissed my mother, asking if she was okay. She seemed passed out, but he missed something much more alarming. When he looked down, he saw that my mother was impaled by one of the irrigation pipes in the middle of her stomach. He went crazy. He saw the love of his life dead before his very eyes. He felt that it was all his fault. Nobody could do anything to console him. He was admitted into a psychiatric hospital. He forgot everything, including me. What he didn’t know was that his daughter, Laura, was also killed. She was ejected from the car. She was found in pieces. He also forgot about his youngest daughter, me, who was in Mexico, with his mother-in-law. His family attempted to speak with him, but he did not regain his memory until I was two years old. While he was at the psychiatric hospital, his family traveled to Mexico to retrieve me, accompanied by a constable. However, the police informed his family that only my father or mother could take custody of me. Consequently, they departed, and his family consulted my father again, but he still could not recall anything. Eventually, as he began to regain his memory, I was nearly three years old, and he came to pick me up. I was with my grandmother, Uncles Pedro and Poncho, and Aunt Irene. My grandmother considered taking me to Durango, Mexico, to keep me from my father, but my uncles advised against it due to potential legal trouble and disruption to my education. The next day, my father arrived with the police and papers proving I was his. The situation was distressing as I clung to my grandmother. The individual who desired my return was unfamiliar to me. My father, moved by the recollection of our relationship, was in tears. My grandmother expressed her anguish vocally while my uncle's provided reassurance and attempted to calm her. Despite being an infant, there was a notable desire from multiple parties to have me in their care. It raises the question of how one child could be sought after by so many individuals. 1 ______________________________ 1 This is the beginning of my Autobiography. I want to continue researching the facts of my life. I want to show the world that sometimes, bad things happen to good people, but it doesn’t have to define who you are. Sometimes curses can be broken. You just must put the time and effort into breaking the curse or cycle.
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