INSIGHT

I was a bubbling freshman at Columbia University New York. That was a huge deal, considering I was the first in the family to join university. I was Puerto Rican, with documents of course. I was born in the United States in a small clinic in one of the shanty neighborhoods of Brooklyn. My mother was an undocumented maid, and my father was a lowely assistant at a rundown law firm. He had always dreamed of being a lawyer, but his parents could not afford to put him through law school. He decided not to let that deter him and decided to work as an assistant in the rundown firm in our tiny town, and help in any way he could. He eventually saved up enough money to put him through law school, but went back to work for the same firm. Ambition was not one of my father's strong suits, something my mother had never come to terms with. My father seemed to be content working for minimum wage, handling mostly probono cases in the minor leagues.''It's about helping people Mary,'' I'd hear at the onstart of every arguement. '' Did you see the dress Ernesto got Calinda, a ten thousand dollar dress, we can't even afford the rent here''. ''Well it was your idea to move into this expensive estate, and for what, to impress your little botox squad? They're not really your friends Maria, they don't really care for you mi amor,'' ''Shut up,'' my mother would interrupt my father,'' you're the one who doesn't care for your daughter and I. If you did, you'd look for a job at a better firm''. A loud bang would follow. Dad's left again.

''Someone please help us,'' my father pleaded as he burst through the hospital doors. He was frantic. His shirt that was drenched with sweat clinged to his body. ''We've got a bullet wound here,'' the doctor told what seemed to be his team as they took me from my father's arms and placed me on the stretcher. ''Please take good care of her,'' my mother said, reluctantly letting go of my hand as the nurses wheeled me away.

My mother had always taken charge of my life. She wanted to achieve through me what she was unable to achieve herself. My mother had always wanted to live a batter life than the one she had. She had always thought that my father would finally start earning real money after getting his license, so when he decided to continue working as an assistant at his run-down firm, she was beyond disappointed. That was when the tiny cracks in their marriage became rifts. They argued more often, my dad would spend more late nights at the office, my mother would spend more money on herself in an attempt to push get my father's attention. Divorce was not an option for either. I don't think they could afford it. They tolerated each other, trying to make things seem like they're working in front of people, but behind closed doors, everything fell apart. I majored in business, hoping that eventually I'd be able to work at a fortune five hundred company, and move my parents out of the shanty building we lived in . I wanted to earn enough money to make my mother happy and to buy my dad new suits.