The story of my life starts with my mom bringing me to this world at the age of 19. My mom was able to graduate from high school, but my dad was not. Both of my parents had obstacles that prevented them to continue their education one of them being immigrants to the United States at the age of 15 years old. Since they were not able to continue their education, and since every parent wants the best for their child, they have been motivating me and helping me pursue a higher education: college. Even though, my mom did not go to college she is doing everything in her power to make sure I do.
“Mija! Mija! Horchata!”
Every evening, sometime between 8 and 8:30 PM, my father yells from the kitchen for me to gulp down my nightly horchata – a traditional Mexican beverage consisting of rice, milk, cinnamon, sugar, and vanilla. However, my father has always slipped in a touch of paprika, which he has always maintained as being his kick in my you-know-what to get my homework done each and every evening. Although he sometimes jokes about our nightly ritual, its significance to either me or him is never forgotten. Indeed, his father made him drink the very same horchata every night when he was a boy, which my father now attributes to being his kick in the you-know-what to help him make it to America as a fifteen-year-old Mexican immigrant.