 |
|
Monday through Thursday at 9am and 8pm; Friday at 9am |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Remembering a Lost House
|
|
I remember the first time we drove down the quiet block decorated with trees and lush green grass to a square little house just before the cul-de-sac.
This square little house was now our home.
It was exactly sixteen years ago when we moved in from an apartment that was not fit for a six member family.
At the new house, I could play in the back yard without the worry of stepping on glass from broken bottles, or tripping over the neighborhood drunks lined up against the big building's walls.
I could play in the front yard without the fear of having my bicycle stolen or witnessing a brawl.
My mother and father purchased the home.
They were minimum wage factory workers and had four children.
Both my mother and father had minimal education and spoke little English.
My father always said how important it was to be at work, just as his father had told him while working in rural Mexico.
One day after school, I came home to find my mother quietly sobbing over the possibility of losing our home.
I didn’t know what foreclosure meant.
My parents had experienced moments of adversity before, but I never realized or noticed.
That was until I came to realize that there were times when my mom would get no sleep in between jobs.
The day I saw my mom crying, I sat at the dining room table.
I realized what it truly meant; my parents were not perfect and endlessly strong, instead that they had flaws and weaknesses.
I noticed all the wrinkles on my mom's face for the first time as she sobbed.
I noticed the many scars on my father’s hands and arms - a map of the endeavors of his life.
My parents seemed to have gotten older in a sheer moment.
It’s those scars of imperfection, that map of my parents’ hard work, that have taught me countless things.
I have grown to realize the meaning of work and struggle. . . I now have the motivation and the understanding. . .to continue my education . . . so I can give back to my parents who did not have this opportunity but did all they could . . . for me.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|  | |
