Going into another family's home has always seemed, in a certain sense, invasive. A home is where one feels most comfortable, and disrupting this peace only brought me anxiety as I arrived at the Mirador household. All eyes followed my every action as I fumbled to set up my camera, taking in the space that surrounded me. It was not until about an hour in that each family member began to move around me.
Casting initial fear aside, I took notice of the heart and soul of the family: the children. The Mirador family took immense pride in each one of their children, trusting them to fulfill certain daily tasks. They worked in harmony, one son filling up buckets from the well in the back of their house, one daughter carrying the water to her mother, who was cleaning off dishes. Two hours into my stay, and another son was handed hot tortillas wrapped in a cloth. He was told to deliver these to the surrounding neighbors, who had previously paid for his mother's tortillas. With direction, the Mirador children completed task after task without hesitation.
I found myself eyeing the emotion behind each child and what brought them pleasure, fear or concern. While chores weren't going on, the children found joy in the toys scattered around the home, such as a worn soccer ball or a plastic tricycle. They didn't need much, for their intimacy created all the fun necessary. They had each other, a lesson I never would have expected to learn from seven-year-olds, yet I took to heart.
What connected me to the Mirador family was our varying fears and curiosities throughout my stay. I feared that I was invading what little privacy they had, yet they feared a stranger who spoke basic Spanish. My curiosities drew my camera to capture every moment, every interaction. Their curiosities, with a little bit of time and adjusting, drew them to ask to take their own photographs and ask about the United States.
And suddenly, no longer was I a stranger in a home I did not belong to. Now, I was "Kay-tay," the girl from America who liked to play soccer with them out in the street. I was "la amiga con la camera" that danced to YouTube songs in the middle of their home with them. I was important to them just as much as they were important to me.