The winds had slowed and the clouds had begun to cry. The rain came and lasted for what felt like an eternity. All of our tears had reached the desperate, dry land and the fields eventually became pools. As we tried to stay alive and not let the floods drown us, we couldn’t help the excitement from the glimpse of a new start. All of what was left of our broken families huddled into small groups, just trying to stay warm and trying to keep sheltered, trying to make it to the next morning.  Trying to avoid diseases and the rainfall that wouldn’t stop, we had to cling together as if we couldn’t let go. Fields remained flooded with large amounts of water as the rain that was thought to never stop finally came to an end. The land was woken and the once barren and dusty fields flooded with excitement of what they would become, of what they would provide, and of what they would mean for the world. 

We were all patiently waiting and counting down days until new beginnings and opportunities would start to sprout through the newly watered soil. As our anger replaced our fear and relief replaced worry, we all began to wonder what would come to us next. The wind and dust had finally come to a pause, and the newly watered fields would not be beneficial for months. The gift of rain would take time to settle before we would be able to use it to our advantage to hopefully repair the damaged America that still remained. With nearly nothing to our names, not even a home, the men sought out for work that wouldn’t be available til the floods had dried up, and the land returned to the state it hasn’t seen in years. 

As our suffering stayed heavily rooted to the ground, the economy remained below ground level with hopes of the new rain bringing it up to where it could be reached. Although we knew this was a sign of opportunity, we knew we were left at a loss for what to do with our changed lives that would never be able to go back to how they were before. With a still very damaged economy and flooded fields, we remained unsure of how to keep going and trying to survive this way. We were able to feel a sense of security through the slowed calming winds, but we knew we weren't safe yet. Soon, but not soon enough, fields would begin to produce crops, flowers would bloom, and cotton would grow. A chance to fix what was left of the newly acquired but violently bruised land would come for us in the months ahead. 

The hundreds of thousands of us who had migrated for a chance of a better life knew we would not need to further worry about disappointment from our newly claimed choice of home. Although the old land was revived and the fields were submerged in our tears of all that was lost, as we left behind what we knew, our old homes, and found California to be our new place of residence. While many of us doubted what good could come after the opposite of a warm welcome, we knew we would have nothing to return to if we changed our minds. What used to be considered everything to us was now nothing but old left behind land that hosted memories of our seemingly simple lives before our forced moves and desperate searches for new opportunities and income. Memories that were from before the dust would forever change our lives and would lead to great change and suffering, before the land was stolen from right under our own feet. 

As the harsh nightmares finally came to an end, the new dreams of what our lives could be only existed in our imagination. With sources of income being a rare find, many of us remained jobless and hopeless even in new light. Most were left struggling and even if we expected our struggle to end in upcoming months, we didn’t know how to save ourselves. We knew our dreams would soon become not too distant and new farming techniques would soon be put into place and life would become easier and more stable. 

All of our suffering that had been deeply rooted into the ground, slowly began to travel through the tree branches and began to release its hold on us and disappear into the air. The flooded fields allowed the water to seep through the cracks in the soil and the seeds previously planted had bloomed into new opportunities. We knew that the drowning land would soon have the chance to gasp for air and that as the water left the fields it would release the economy from its grasp. Even with the dust gone and the wind slowed, the scars left behind were hard to ignore. The new light shined down on the fields and finally presented the better life that was promised to all of us who had migrated to California. The struggle was not over, but the light at the end was ready and in arms’ reach, and we were never more ready.