My mother constantly tells me to appreciate what I have because there is always someone less fortunate. At first it was mere rhetoric but when I was about nine, she really taught me what this means.
My older siblings and I were lunching with our parents at home but we wanted to go eat at McDonald’s. We were so obstinate that finally my mother said we were going on a little trip. I was so excited, thinking that she had finally given in to our pleas. I couldn’t have been more wrong. We kept on driving, past the paved road of San Salvador and onto a dirt one.
In front of us stood a cluster of little houses that looked more like shacks after a hurricane. They were made of cardboard, plywood, mud, or anything they could find that would keep them warm and dry. Near the road were some women selling fruit, and as they saw the car approach, they scurried, fighting to be the first to sell their merchandise. Behind them two small babies, who couldn’t have been more than three, sat naked on a piece of cardboard, their fragile bodies and ribs exposed.After a while I couldn’t take it. I started to cry and begged for us to leave. My mother asked if we were now ready to eat our food; unhesitant and unanimously we answered, “Yes!”. We returned home.
It was both didactic and insightful of my mother to show us those people and the wretched conditions they endured every day. It made me feel extremely selfish to be so picky, when these kids were starving and would have been grateful for anything and everything. It taught me not to take for granted the roof over my head, the clothes that keep me warm, or the three meals a day I eat. I now know that thousands of kids in El Salvador don’t have these luxuries.
At first I was angry with my mother for taking us there. But I can now see why it was indispensable for us to see that. I’m appreciative for this early lesson because learning to not be spoiled when surrounded by all the things you need is a tough process.