Faith | new beginnings?
These hills will be the absolute death of me.
Trudging my way up to the peak of what would be my fifth “mini mountain” today, suited CEOs and nervous new hires bustled in and out of nearby internet cafés and towering skyscrapers that gave off major Google-esque vibes. Pastel-painted houses of all colors were packed together like sardines at just about every major intersection, marking the beginning of a residential area.
So this is San Francisco...the heart of Silicon Valley.
I finally reach the apex, my legs and feet like lead, but just like I predicted, my mother, who was just in my vision moments earlier, has vanished to God knows where.
Twenty paces south and a string of grumbles later, I catch her in line, paying for a half dozen gluten-free cupcakes. She turns around and meets me with a wide smile, a red velvet cupcake in one hand, the pale blue cardboard box in the other. My father gives me a wide-eyed look, like a little kid who’s hand was caught in the cookie jar.
Mid-bite into his key lime cupcake, he brushes the crumbs off his dress shirt. “I tried to steer her away from the shop, but you know how stubborn your mother is, and she tempted me with this cupcake so...” She playfully swats him on the arm and I just laugh at them both, hating but also loving that they are so romantic with one another.
“I hate to break this playful love fest you two have going on here, but campus is that way,” pointing behind me to the massive, modernized building decorated with golden yellow and black balloons that still haven’t been taken down since OwlWelcomeWeek. “You two wanted to see my dorm before you headed to work, so let’s make sure we do just that. No detours. I kind of have an assignment that’s due at 11:59 and I don’t want to be uploading massive files last minute.”
My mom shakes my shoulder, making me flop side to side like a fish out of water. “You know how much I love how studious you are, but c’mon Mickey, live a little,” using her nickname for me that she so cleverly derived from my middle name, Michaela.
1:03 p.m. I have twenty-seven minutes until my “break” is over and they have to be on their way back to their jobs...right? I know they hate being late just as much as I do, but for some reason, bugging their only daughter for a vlog-like tour of campus seems far more important. I bite down on my boba tea straw, holding back a witty remark, when my father’s voice breaks the tension.
“So, are there any cute guys that caught your attention? Make you swoon?” I raise my eyebrows. “Oh right. Girls too. I’m still getting the hang of it all, but we’re glad you felt comfortable telling us and as long as you are truly happy, that’s all that matters to us.” My mother nods her head vigorously and I give them a forced smile, appreciating the sentiment.
Truly happy? I abandoned that phrase four years ago.
