Queridos Mama y Papi
I’m not going to write this in Spanish, primarily because you both understand English and I want Mama to understand this letter. Also, my Spanish is okay, but not letter-worthy.
Mama: as much as you fret you have made me cynical, don’t stress. If you hadn’t made me who I am, I’d be less content with, and less sure of, myself. And as your daughter I know that I’ve got some pretty strong genes in me that are going to carry me through whatever happens as you did – head high and sticking to convictions. I love you immensely, and I miss you often. And also, thank you for teaching me that it’s completely okay to be who I want to be, and thank you for giving me every opportunity to talk with you about anything. Be it God, or life, or angst, you’re there.
Papi: I listen to Silvio Rodriguez and think of you playing guitar; I listen to Crowded House and think of you giving me my first tape; I listen to the Beatles and think of you and I walking home from Gemma’s house, singing I’ve Just Seen A Face and Lucy in the Sky With Diamonds at the top of our lungs even though it was midnight; I listen to Ben Lee in angst form and think of you telling me about the first metaphor I knowingly encountered. I can chart my life through music and you’re at every point. Even though we’ve fought a whole lot, and still clash at times now, I guess I realise I understand more where you’re coming from. Te quiero mucho.
With every inch of love that I can possibly express,
I love you guys,
You made my childhood and my now adulthood unique, interesting, and perfect through all those imperfections.
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