We would wake up in the morning to help our parents with the truck, and while they went to sell food, we would go to school. In the afternoon after we got home from school and Mom and Dad got home, we would help clean the truck and get it ready for the next day. That’s what we did, day in and day out on the weekdays…

Talk about an unusual childhood. Most of our friends in the neighborhood just had to go to school, study and perhaps play outside. We didn’t know it at the time; but as much as we complained about our hectic schedules, this was preparing us for the real life that was going to come ahead as adults.

We got to be normal kids at school. We got to go to school. In other parts of the world, kids are forced to work and not given the opportunity to get an education. We got to do both. It was like winning the lottery; we just didn’t know how good our childhood was at the time.

And there was always food at home. We never had to ask. When the question was asked, “Que hay de comer?” Spanish for “What is there to eat?”, the answer was always something mouth-watering. It wasn’t Mom preparing food for dinner in the kitchen. It was Mom’s delicious food that came home from the truck that day that made for the perfect meal.

If my friends came over to the house, they would naturally (stay to eat / be invited to eat) this lip-smacking food. They would ask, “Dude, where did you get this good ass burrito?” and I would be like, “My Mom made it!” People couldn’t believe that the food was homemade.

Attend school in the morning, help out with the truck in the afternoon and enjoy tasty dinners in the evening. We didn’t notice how quickly time flew by. One moment we were kids helping our parents with the truck and the next moment, we weren’t.