Monday, December 9, 2013

Cuentos de mis padres

My mother turned 71 yesterday.  I am thankful for her and for my dad.  The older I become, the more I realize how me must live each day as if it were our last.  We are not promised tomorrow. 

My dad often tells the story of how he rode a donkey three miles to school and three miles home when he was an elementary student in Mexico.  I asked why he couldn't just walk, and he said, "Es que tuve que cruzar el rio."  I had to cross the river.  He and my aunt Noemi rode to school together on the donkey with no name (I asked).

I know that when I was younger I often rolled my eyes at my parents when they told me, "When I was your age, blablabla."

When I was younger, anytime my parents prepared fish for dinner, I would complain.  I would say, "Uh, fish again?"

Dad would tell me, "Be thankful for fish.  That's what I mostly ate as a kid.  I had to go to the river and catch fish for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  Because of fish, I am alive today."  I often wondered if dad was exaggerating. 

Mom has told me that she liked catching turtles as a kid and eating them.  I must admit I have never had turtle meat. 

Mom has also talked about doing the laundry with a washboard in the river and heating water on the stove (not just any stove - a WOODBURNING STOVE) just to be able to bathe. 

I take so much for granted!


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