Every day, coming home from middle school, I walked to my Abuelita’s house. She would cook me a warm meal with handmade tortillas she made on the press. Usually, right after, I would brush her hair and practice ponytails and even sometimes Dutch braids. My Abuelita loved having the bristles from the brush, and my fingers would touch her scalp and soothe her head. Relaxed, she would always tell me stories about her life, amusing moments of taking care of me and my cousins, and recipes, like her famous flan. Abuelita would tell me how she grew up in a small pueblo. She lived with her mother and sisters in a small house. She would tell me all the jobs she had to work from a young age. Abuelita never had time for school; some jobs included helping her mother sell tamales and clean houses to stay afloat. She would tell me how she longed for school, to be able to write, to read, to not worry about her next pay. I believe Abuelita was capable of achieving these dreams that poverty did not allow. These stories fulfilled a bucket list of what is now a dream of mine. This aspiration to strive and pursue my education ignited even more. Although it seems simple to want to focus on school, in my family's culture, this was unnatural. As Abuelita would tell me, the culture of setting aside education to prioritize work was emphasized in my family. The route after graduation was straight to work. My parents and siblings. My family also could not afford to think about education after they had graduated, as they came into a new country, learning a whole other language. Although Abuelita's stories helped me believe that I can challenge the belief that poverty holds us to. As she was able to come to a new country, become a U.S. Citizen, take care of her 7 children and strive. Abuelita’s resilience with poverty and coming to a new country without learning how to read or write, made me recognize the privilege I have. Her perseverance and teaching me through story-telling has allowed me to thrive in school. As she is my motivation for pushing forward when I am lost and in places where I feel I don’t belong. With the struggles I face in school, I am again reminded of Abuelita’s stories. I reimagine how Abuelita would look at the other children going to school as she had to work. She inspires me to continue to focus on what I long for, and what was once her dream is now mine.