In the summer of 2011 when I was the age of thirteen, I was going to reach the biggest milestone in my life at that time; which was going to Nicaragua all by myself. I could remember the day when my dad booked the flight and thinking how my siblings and I were going to experience where my parents grew up and how things worked in their hometown. It was not until a few days later when my dad walked into my room; seriously but not furiously and said, “Son at your age you should feel so lucky that you guys have a better life than your mother and I had. The ticket that I bought, was for you and only for you; you are the only one going on this trip so then you know what your mother and I went through to be here to give you guys the life that we wanted as a kid.” At that time, I did not
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At least I was physically prepared, but what was most important of all was that I was not mentally prepared. I did not know how it was going to be over there, all that I knew was that it was going to be different. Even if it was a small difference or not, I just knew that it was just going to be different.
So the day comes to when it is time to fly, the time to experience a new world, the time to see what “life” really is. My dad gave me vivid images of how his home looked and how he can remember those small things in his home even if he was blind-folded; he could map his whole house physically. That got me thinking if that is how I would remember my home when I leave for college. Note that my dad left his home when he was only fifteen to go to Costa Rica by himself, but never returned home as his next destination was Houston, TX since he became a legal U.S citizen thanks to my aunt. I could remember going through the inspection room and turning around knowing this is going to be the last time that I would see my parents for the next two years. The face that my father had was not the one that I
At least I was physically prepared, but what was most important of all was that I was not mentally prepared. I did not know how it was going to be over there, all that I knew was that it was going to be different. Even if it was a small difference or not, I just knew that it was just going to be different.
So the day comes to when it is time to fly, the time to experience a new world, the time to see what “life” really is. My dad gave me vivid images of how his home looked and how he can remember those small things in his home even if he was blind-folded; he could map his whole house physically. That got me thinking if that is how I would remember my home when I leave for college. Note that my dad left his home when he was only fifteen to go to Costa Rica by himself, but never returned home as his next destination was Houston, TX since he became a legal U.S citizen thanks to my aunt. I could remember going through the inspection room and turning around knowing this is going to be the last time that I would see my parents for the next two years. The face that my father had was not the one that I