On being home

I'm here in Saltillo. Everyone's asleep except me. I swear I'm getting so sentimental in my old age, because I love coming home and just hanging out in the house. The pantry is always full, in the winter time it's always so warm, everyone's always happy to see me -- especially the dogs, who literally pee themselves when I pet them -- and happy we're all together, and there are pictures everywhere of the people I love the most in various stages of life and awareness of the camera.

When my parents retired to bed, I went into the den and spotted on the side table a letter my mom had written to my dad thanking him for loving her and asking him to continue to love her for the rest of their time on this earth. (It wasn't a closed letter that I picked up and opened to read; it was more like a note on a little bit of stationery just sitting out, in case you're thinking I'm nosy, which I am, but not in this instance.)

Among the things I'm most grateful for in my life is the fact that my parents, after 25 years, are still in love and still together. They have their rough moments and I know there are times when they want to kill each other, but they always manage to work through the problems because there is such friendship and adoration between them. It's so tough and rare for married couples to stay together for so long; I am truly fortunate that their union has held for as long as it has. I hope it holds forever.

The most powerful gift they gave me, besides life, is a stable home with a heap of support and occasional tough love, all of which made me who I am. I'm not perfect, and there are a lot of things I'd like to change about myself, but I'm mostly proud of who I am and I will always credit everything I do and every shred of motivation in my soul to the amazing support and love of my parents. They are truly remarkable people and I have them to thank for everything.