Dear dad, home to me is where you are

Dear Dad,

I know you want to go back, but I also know that you won’t. I know that you miss all your family, your brothers and sisters. You rarely talk about them, but when you do it is like you speak of heaven. How do you do it? Where do you get all that strength to persevere? You are my hero. Not because you are my dad, not because you are a great soccer player, or because you wash dishes, but because we are your number one priority.

Not so long ago, you asked me to look up Morelia in the Internet. I was a bit confused; I did not know exactly why you needed me to do that. Still, I searched for a picture of Morelia and the first one that appeared was one of La Catedral de Morelia. You stared at it as I waited for you to narrate a story about it, but there was only silence. You did not say a word, you just walked away. Just then, I began to cry. The harder I tried not to cry, the harder the tears strolled down my face. I wanted to get up, pack my bags, march towards you, and tell you “Vamonos. Vamonos to a place where we do not have to hide.” I sat alone in our dingy kitchen and I felt your message. I felt the pain. I felt the need to see our Morelia once again; even if it meant seeing it through a computer screen.

There is an endless list of all the things you have given up for me, and you never complain about any of them. I want to tell you that I am here for you, and that I will do everything in my reach to make you happy. If going back to Mexico would make you happy, I am willing to leave with you. Because home to me is not a location, home to me is where you are.

I remember that in elementary and high school, my teachers would say “Your parents must be so proud to have a daughter like you. They are truly lucky.” I couldn’t help to smile, a bit embarrassed at such compliment. Now, I think about it and realize that I am the lucky one. I am lucky to have a father like you; I simply won la loteria.

Love,
Jess

Posted in Uncategorized and tagged .