By Jasmine Flores, Sophomore
To listen to the audio: Daddy’s Little Girl
Daddy’s Little Girl
“I remember he wore a long black leather jacket, he got into a blue Chevy and that was it,” This is what my brother always says when we talk about the day our father left us.
At the time I was so young, I don’t even remember his face, so though I know I’ve met him my memory is solely based of my brother’s words and the occasional photographs. Even without the memories of what I’m missing, growing up into my teenage years has been tough. There are times when I feel indecisive and I feel like half of me is missing. When times are hard and I feel like there is no one to talk to, I quietly think to myself. My mind begins to drift to my father and the question “What If?” is always on my mind.
“What if my father were here right now?” “What if my dad had attended every single one of my birthdays?” “What if he knew how much our family was suffering?” “What if he knew that deep down his only daughter was missing half of herself because of him?”
Despite the lingering questions, I feel strong, resilient, and independent. I was never “Daddy’s Little Girl” because Daddy wasn’t there and I know I can and will succeed with or without him. This is the mentality my mother raised my three older brothers and me with. I am proud that my brothers have broken this cycle. They have kids of their own now and I know that their children will never have the questions we always had about our absent father.
My nieces and nephews will remember their father in flesh not by faded photographs. They won’t have to ask their mothers where their dads are, they will have two loving parents who will always support them.
I don’t need that person with the black leather jacket in my life. I will never follow in his footsteps and rip my family apart leaving my children missing part of themselves.
With a perspective, I’m Jasmin Flores
By Marisol Martinez, Sophomore
To listen to the audio: Mom Fighting Diabetes
Mom Fighting diabetes
My mom Maria Fortanel is everything. To be honest, I don’t think I can live without her. I need her by my side. My mom’s diabetes is so strong. It’s like she fights with her body to keep moving forward, because she is in pain everyday. It’s like the pain in her body is the evil villain and she is the super hero dueling with her own body.
The pain in her body is so bad that sometimes she can’t even stand, let alone move. I remember the first time I saw that, I was scared. I couldn’t stop crying. To see her on the bed, not even able to lift her head was terrifying.
Now a days she has to take about 8 different pills a day, each with a different side effect. The pills help her but it harms her body in a worst way then it was. The pill I think that comes with the worst side effect is the one that could potentially cause blindness. Other pills will give her upset stomach, dizziness, dry mouth, lose of hair, and sleepiness.
Despite all this, I never think of my mom as weak, or as a victim of her disease. My mom is a fighter.
I believe my mother with diabetes is strong. I think because of my mom I can live a strong life just like her. I know it will be hard to do but my mom is still fighting and I plan to fight as well to have the life my mom had always wanted. Hopeful in the future ill be just like my mom.
With a perspective, I’m Marisol Martinez.
By Guadalupe Martinez, Sophomore
To listen to the audio: Unconditional Love
I am a rotten teenager; at least that’s what my mom calls me. But I’m not your average spoiled know-it-all. For the most part I am a good kid. A giggly tomboy who likes to play sports. Since I am perceptive enough to get some people to bend to my will, it amazes me how long it took to realize how I was hurting so many others. Not only did I succeed in pushing away many of my closest friends, but I also managed to sabotage the most precious relationship in my life: my relationship with my mother.
Ever since I entered my teenage years I’ve said some horrible comments. Hurtful comments that stung the people I loved the most. Acts of confusion and anger all just to make things go my way. My mother gave birth to me at age 18 and she tells me, “I was hoping my first would be a girl. Please don’t push me away.” I replied with my best face of stone: “I didn’t ask for you! I don’t want you to care about me!”
My mother began to believe I meant it. Ironically I wish I could say I had been using drugs, swallowing pills or smoking. At least that would account for my change in attitude and those razor sharp words that came flying out of my mouth. However, this isn’t the case. My only addiction is hatred; my only high is inflicting pain.
At a certain point, I had to stop and ask myself why? Why do I feel the need to hurt others? Why do I hurt the people I care about the most? Why my mom? I don’t want to inflict pain on others to cover up what I was trying to hide myself. Self-hatred. Self-hatred unleashed on my mother. I saw my mother’s pained face, her warm yet tired eyes filled with emptiness. My first encounter with unconditional love was a powerful feeling.
Despite all the lies and anger-filled words, she still loved me. My mother’s unconditional love is the most precious gift I have ever received. I want to extend the gift my mom gave me to all the “rotten teenagers” who are lost in this world. It’s okay to feel pain, anger and love, just don’t forget about those who will love you unconditionally.
With a perspective, I’m Guadalupe Martinez.
By Waldemar Ochoa, Sophomore
To listen to the audio: My Inspiration
Many people look to athletes, celebrities and historical figures to be their sources of inspiration, but my role model doesn’t play for the golden state warriors or make millions of dollars every year, my role model is the person who has cared for me and fed me since the day I was born, my mom. My mother was born in Honduras in 1966 and growing up was very difficult for her. My grandparents had eleven kids and not enough food to go around, so my mom would often have to go for days eating a single tortilla for dinner. She lived in severe poverty for most of her childhood– no shoes, no toys, no clothes– but she never complained. Instead, she prayed and thanked God every day for the things she did have. Then I was born and my parents brought me to the U.S in search of a better future, our first couple years here were the exact opposite of the American dream. We lived in a small four-wall room and slept on a single mattress, so my mom decided to look for a job. She had to wake up at 5 in the morning, and drop me off at the neighbors’ house and then begin a job cleaning rich people’s houses all over the Bay Area. She was making a good amount of money but she wasn’t satisfied, so she began working during the day and taking English classes at night s she could get a better job. Her hard work payed off as she was hired as a clerk at la Clinica de la Raza were she has now worked for 8 years.My mom has come a long way in this world. She went from deep poverty and struggle to the comfortable life she is able to live now. My mother is the strongest, most perseverant person I know, so whenever I need something to inspire me I don’t turn on the TV or read a magazine, I simply look to my mom.
With a perspective, I’m Waldemar Ochoa