Sincerely, the perfect stranger

one

For four long years, I worked tirelessly to meet the incredibly high and impossibly unfair standards my parents had set for me. I was the  first to attend college in my family. In fact, whether or not I would attend college was never really a question, but rather where and how would I pay for it. But for the past four years, I played on every varsity team I could make it on to, became student council president, class vice-president, secretary for the national honor society at my school, was crowned homecoming queen and helped organize multiple community service projects. 

Yes, I went to parties from time to time, and yes I kissed boys here and there, though I'd be lying if I said that I couldn't totally count all those "high school experiences" on one hand (ok maybe a hand-and-a-half). So while I wasn't completely sheltered and forced to live the life of a nun, I do still hold some kind of resentment toward the rules and regulations my parents enforced at home. I blame it on a combination of being raised in a catholic, hispanic household and being a teenage girl in a society basically overrun by the patriarchy, and ultimately I know it was with the best of intentions, but truth be told I was ready to explore every angle of independence now at the edge of my fingertips as a freshman at the University of Texas at Austin. 

"Okay mija, this is the last bag. Want us to stay and help you unpack?" my mom offered, her eyes slightly glossy, as evidence that she was trying to swallow back tears that I could see welling up even when I sat behind her in the car ride up here. The five hour drive from our hometown was one long retelling of childhood stories my parents were more than happy to reminisce over in my presence. From the first tooth I lost to the first and only time I broke curfew. 

"That's okay mom. I really don't mind doing that on my own over the weekend. I know you guys have to get going." 

My dad worked in construction, which meant little to no days off. He had already requested the day off to join my mom and I on the drive to drop me off for school. My dad was a man of few words. What some perceived as an intimidating presence (aka the few boys who attempted to ask me out in high school) I knew was a quiet wall flower. My dad was simply observant. He noticed the small things that never really needed to be said. I took after him in that way. I always considered myself to be a highly emotionally intelligent person. Definitely a blessing and a curse. I was thankful I didn't lose much time in high school wasting energy and brain cells trying to decode any complicated situations with boys, dealing with the "will-they-won't-they" so many of my friends dealt with for four years. Don't get me wrong, I LOVE boys, but who has the time to fight with a boyfriend and deal with the rumor mill in a small town? 

In that same breath, being really in touch with the quiet cues of body language, I felt like I was always hyper-aware of everything and anything going on around me. My grandma used to joke around, claiming I was some kind of psychic. I would just chalk it up to taking after my dad, trying not to be so in my head all the time and trying to be somewhat aware of my surroundings for the most part. 

I look up to my two loving, doting, still madly-in-love parents and I'm immediately caught off guard by the flood of emotions that wash over me when I realize this is the part where we hug good-bye until Thanksgiving break, with the exception of a few Skype and Facetime calls if I could manage to teach my parents how to use either one. 

My dad gives me a warm, loving, all-consuming hug. He's 5'10, strong from years of hard labor. His skin was incredibly dark from hours in the sun pouring cement and pulling extra shifts over the summer to help me with tuition. 

His embrace is so calming to me, I almost forget about the current setting. As he releases his grip, he grabs me by the shoulders and pulls back to look at me with his sweet, honey brown eyes that feel like looking in the mirror. He just turned 50, so the once bright and handsome eyes are now accompanied by subtle wrinkling at the corners.