February 2021. When I was a little girl, life seemed simple. I had lots of rules to
follow, dos and don't. Boundaries. The rules are different when you grow
up, but it was a good lesson to learn discipline.
I grew up with
a mother who made me a convenient scapegoat of her fear caused by the
hate and discrimination piled on Mexican immigrants. I also grew up with
a father who believed love triumphed over hate every time.
Christmas
was a good memory. Father filled the kitchen with delicious food
fragrances. He'd sing "Oh Come All Ye Faithful." Flickering lights made
me take a deep breath. Family faces with smiles in their eyes warmed my
heart. Neighbors waved and said Merry Christmas as I rode by on my new
bike.
My childhood wasn't one big tea party, but I was never
afraid to walk to school. It was a time when I played outdoors without
fear of kidnappers or pedophiles.
I read books more than I
watched television. We mostly went to the movie theater to see a story
unfold on "the big screen" and no one thought for a second that some
crazy person would shoot up the theater.
As a girl playing with
my dolls, I dreamed of the day I'd have children. I wanted my father's
dream: A home, cooking and baking, passing on the good values that
perpetuate truth, fairness and respect for one another.
What do you dream about? Dream big.