One thing I’ll never forget is my experience going to the mines. My mom came from a family of miners- that’s actually where she met my dad. So in a way, mining is part of my story, part of who I am. I grew up hearing stories about it, but being there and doing the work myself was something else entirely.

Having your own mining place definitely has its perks. First, you’re literally touching gold- and not everyone can say that. Second, it gives you a source of allowance if you’re studying, as long as you’re willing to put in the work. Third, it gives you a fallback- something to return to if life doesn’t go as planned. But of course, that only works if the business keeps going strong.

Still, mining is no joke. It’s hard, physical labor. You have to drill deep into the rocks, haul everything out, and that’s only the start. After that, you grind the stones- luckily there’s a machine for that- then you wash off all the mud, filter the ore, and finally run it through water with a cloth to catch the heavy stuff. The penultimate step is called “dayas“- shaking the pan to separate the gold from the rest. I’ve done every part of the process- except that last one.

Maybe it’s strange, but I think there’s something symbolic about that. That last part- the dayas– feels like the moment everything comes together. It’s when you finally see the result of all your hard work. Maybe I haven’t done it yet because I’m still in my own version of the process- still grinding, still learning, still getting the mud off.

What stuck with me most wasn’t just the process itself, but what it represents. Mining taught me what it really means to work hard. It taught me patience, discipline, and that kind of pride you only feel after a long day of real effort. It made me realize that the most valuable things in life- not just gold- take time, sweat, and struggle.

More than that, it made me appreciate where I come from. My family built something out of nothing, with bare hands and stubborn hearts. And now, even if I choose a different path, I’ll always carry that part of them with me.

Because in the end, gold isn’t just something you find in the dirt- it’s something you uncover in yourself.

Before coming to the U.S., I was working as a teacher. I had my own rhythm, my own sense of purpose. Now that I’m married and living here- though I can’t work yet since I’m still waiting for my papers- I’ve had to pause that part of my life. It’s been an adjustment, going from working and being independent to suddenly having to wait. But maybe this is just another phase of the process, like in mining- grinding, washing, filtering- slow, messy, necessary steps before the gold finally shows. I may not be in the classroom or the mines right now, but I know I’m still in the middle of shaping something valuable. And I’m learning, more than ever, that sometimes growth doesn’t look like movement- it looks like patience.