Drought Eats Up California Leaving No Water

Drought Eats Up California Leaving No Water

Jayda Galvan, Writer

“Today, I’m here in San Jose, California,  and as you can see, the whole lake behind me is as dry as sand. Pedestrians all over are in a crisis trying to find the smallest bit of water. Fifty people already dead and five in the hospital.” I’ve never seen California like this. My hometown, dried up and hot. 

“Mija, ¿podrías traer el Arroz de la despensa?” my Abuelita asks. We never lived in such a subtle home. In Mexico, there was yelling and glass shattering every night. My brothers would always crawl up next to me while I played Abuelo’s music. But now that we live in California, it’s still not what any of us hoped, but it’s a start. My Abuelita has always been my best friend. She’s helped me through Middle School, she used all her money for dinner and used almost her whole bank account rent just so we’re safe and have a cozy room to sleep in. My father died three years ago. My mother is in prison, and it’s just my tia across the street, but she already has trouble with her house. I’m sixteen and in Highschool. I work at a market, and at a Subway on weekends for extra money. My brother is in college but he doesn’t help a lot. He just goes to parties and comes by the house to ask for a few bucks. Especially the drought that is happening now is shorting our fund more and more. When we heard the news my Abuela looked concerned but continued with her book. I look at my mom knowing how this has happened before. In Mexico, there was a shortage. My mom grabbed the keys and ran to the car. We usually listen to the news every morning so we know if it’s happening now or not, or if we need things. We have this little tsunami cellar where we keep buckets and buckets of canned food, a wireless microwave and heater, flashlights, several huge locks, clothes, blankets, and whole shelves full of water and medkits. We’ve always been prepared because my grandma is so paranoid. 

While my mom and I were driving, we saw a few people rushing in. We parked the car and ran in. We went straight to the water carton aisle and container aisle. We grabbed the last water bucket, but a rude lady grabbed my moms hand and took it. My mom was about to yell, but I pointed quickly at the ice station. We ran and grabbed about 15 huge bags. We pushed out basket to the self-checkout and left. The young man at the exit who checked recipes looked at our basket and looked at me.

“You know, I can offer a deal. A smart one,” he said suspiciously,

“I’m not intere-” 

“I don’t care. Here’s my deal, you can give me 14 of them, and I’ll give you one. Good?” My mom rushed to me and smacked him hard in the face. She grabbed the cart and me and ran to the car. She shoved all of the things inside and drove off aggressively. We put the ice bags in the car and rushed home. At home, we got every bin, bucket, and hole to put the ice in. We heard a bang on the door and screams…