<\/p>\n
My father is from Guadalajara, Mexico. He told me that he lived in California before he ended up in Texas. He once detailed to me a time when he was working in the fields of California, picking strawberries. I try to imagine what that must have been like for him: Having to bend over for hours in the blazing heat, picking hundreds, maybe thousands of strawberries. Working so hard to afford a place to live and food to feed himself. I wonder if he ever thinks about that time while he cuts up the strawberries he buys at the grocery store.<\/span><\/p>\n I recall a time when we were watching T.V., and a commercial for Disneyland came on. Sitting on our tattered couch, I said \u201c<\/span>Quiero ir all\u00ed alg\u00fan d\u00eda<\/span><\/i>.\u201d He replied, \u201c<\/span>Cuando yo viv\u00eda en California, pod\u00eda ver los cohetes de Disney desde donde dorm\u00eda. Los vide todo el tiempo<\/span><\/i>.\u201d I just hummed in acknowledgment. I had so many questions, but I didn\u2019t dare voice them. <\/span>Did he enjoy living in California? What was it like for him there?<\/span><\/i>\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n When I grew up, I began to see how the events in his life molded him into who he was. My father was strict and hot-headed. I think I inherited his temper. When we spoke, it always resulted in an argument. While I showed resentment towards my father, I still loved him. My mom died when I was only a baby, I had only known my father and his love. I felt obligated to slink back to him once I was \u201cdone\u201d being angry. My father was not the best at comforting me in times of need. Sure, he would wrap an arm around my shoulders while they shook because I was crying when visiting my mom\u2019s grave, but that was the extent of his comfort.<\/span><\/p>\n There was one time I was able to experience genuine love from my father. It was during my sophomore year of high school, an incredibly dark time in my adolescent life. I walked into my house after school, and there he was on the weathered couch. He was home from work early. The sight of him, I couldn\u2019t help tears filling my eyes. I wiped them away discreetly and sat next to him. We sat in silence watching the news in Spanish. I needed something I knew he couldn\u2019t provide. Still, I moved closer to his side and leaned against him. He did what he knew best and put his arm around my shoulder, then he asked, \u201c<\/span>\u00bf<\/span><\/i>C\u00f3mo te fue en escuela?<\/span><\/i>\u201d As those words left his mouth, I broke down. I cried the hardest I had ever dared in front of him. He hugged my head to his chest while I sobbed until I couldn\u2019t breathe. My father held me and let me cry until there were no more tears left. He asked me what was wrong, but I didn\u2019t know what to tell him, so I just shrugged my shoulders, wiped my eyes, and escaped to my room.<\/span><\/p>\n We never talked about that day. We never talked about anything. I have since moved out of our house and I don\u2019t call him as often as I should. There are so many things I wish I had the guts to ask him about. I want to know more about him. I want to know more about his life and his experiences, the good and the bad. Maybe one day we will sit down and talk about everything. I still wait for that day.<\/span><\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" My father is from Guadalajara, Mexico. He told me that he lived in California before he ended up in Texas. He once detailed to<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[19],"tags":[18],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1057"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=1057"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1057\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1565,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1057\/revisions\/1565"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=1057"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=1057"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/sagebrushreview.org\/wordpress\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=1057"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}