V: she’s Chilean – she didn’t let us get away with sh*t. if i was going ANYWHERE — my room, my bathroom, everything needed to be "impeccable." if i passed her white glove test, then it was time to present my case. i couldn’t ask twice – i had one shot, and if it was a no, it was a no.
there had to be a plan, and you bet the other parents would be contacted to verify the plan was accurate. if I got the green light, i would be home by curfew and ready for church in the morning or else. i never had to learn what that “or else” meant, because it just wasn’t an option. i’d be home on time, period.
i always appreciated her, but there’s just no way to understand how much your parents love you until you have a baby of your own. sitting here with my son — one month old today — and realizing that i was (am) this precious thing to my mom — it’s pretty crazy. knowing her whole life revolved around me like this, and knowing all those decisions she made were to protect me like i’m going to protect this little thing. it’s overwhelming.
A: what would you want to say to her?
V: thank you. like really — thank you, for everything.