Dear Mama y Papa,

Dad, did you know that other dads go golfing and running every day? Instead, you fix cars in our driveway and wake up at 4 a.m. to go to work. I grew up barely seeing you because you were always working late hours trying to put bread on the table. Despite your absence somehow you managed to make it right on time for birthdays, award ceremonies and dentist appointments. It is because of your efforts that I study so hard, and continue to try to "make it in America." Like you said Dad, the view is free but the hustle comes with a price and I think I am finally understanding what you meant by that.

I thank you for raising me right. For teaching me the value of a dollar, and that education is the only way. I thank you for giving me a beautiful home with my own room, a backyard, and a driveway filled with 4 cars. I applaud you for your ability to come to a new country and push yourself every day, despite how foreign it may seem. You have given me a wonderful life filled with abundance, and only now do I realize how hard it is yet how easy you made it look. I know I gave you a hard time when I was a kid. I wanted more, but that was only because I was born in a country where more meant better.

Mom, thank you for being patient with me. While my sister and I became American, you always reminded us of our roots with Ecuadorian dishes such as caldo de bola, sopa de queso and yapingacho. You always told us stories of your youth, and of simpler times back in your country. You would tell us about how the kids in your small village played with mud and rocks and lived happier lives than those who were surrounded by riches.

Two years ago, when I started college and was referred to as “that Spanish chick” was when my long journey of feeling different began. For a long time, I silently suffered because I realized that I was never just American. I remember being young and having to translate from English to Spanish at parent and teacher conferences. Of course, sometimes I lied and told mom I was an excellent student and faced no repercussions because mom didn’t understand the English language anyways.

There was also the time when mom first got her license and couldn’t ready any of the signs which forced my sister to ask the Gringos for directions. As uncomfortable as it was, it made me and my sister grow up quick. Instead of lounging and being kids my sister and I (primarily my sister) had to take on the role of the communicator with the Americans.

I write this in hopes that you both know how eternally grateful I am that you migrated to this beautiful country despite the difficulties. As I was born and raised in The United States of America I give thanks that I was not encouraged to let go of my own Ecuadorian roots. While I was infused into the American culture that entailed of Britney Spears, Hillary Duff and MTV, I thank you, Mom and Dad, for changing the channel when I got home and introducing me to Don Fransico, Caso Cerado and Selena. I was not given a guide map of how to be an “Americana con padres Latinos”. However, I hope I have made you guys proud.

In the end, as I look around at our colorful family I give thanks to you both for holding our culture so close. For not letting me become fully American. You made me beautifully different.