I’ve always wanted to run away from home, just leave one day and never come back. But I realize that I wouldn’t be able to without a massive guilt trip somewhere along the road. I mean, how do you turn your back on the woman who gave you life? Who worked two jobs just so that you could afford to have some of the nicer things in life? I couldn’t. This same woman always promised that I’d be able to afford college, even if she had to sell herself to pay for tuition. Having just read Les Miserables, I snapped at her for making the suggestion, knowing full well that she had never even heard of the novel and would not understand why I was angry. Besides, she wouldn’t need to: I stayed up until three in the morning, studying and doing homework; I took leadership positions in as many clubs as possible; I participated in extracurricular sports. When the letter came in the mail, announcing that I had obtained a Regent’s Scholarship, that all financial need would be met if I attended UCLA, I showed it to my mom, but I left right after. I couldn’t let her see me crying, grown men do not cry, so I went to my car. Now I’m here, but I’m still scared of failing out and losing my scholarship, or worse that either she will be snatched away from me, before I can show her that her struggles were worth it, or that I will be taken and she would be left downtrodden, without enough spirit left to raise my sisters. Case in point: a couple of weeks ago, I had a biking accident and broke my leg, now I’m out of commission for about 6 months. I wasn’t wearing a helmet; I could have just as easily fractured my skull at the speed I was going. It is both the knowledge that my mother, at nineteen years old decided she would keep her child, me, and work hard to support him and the fear that one of us may be taken away prematurely that drives me to put all my effort into today, because if I don’t I’ll break the heart of an immigrant woman.
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