30 Years, 30 Things: I was born

I was born June 18^th, 1983. But even before that, it was by a fortuitous turn of events that my parents met and of course, without that happening, I would not exist. Plus, they have a really cute story, so I will start there. My father was 25 years old studying in Cuernavaca, Mexico to be a Spanish teacher. A long-haired, peace-loving hippie, my mom thought he looked like John Lennon. My mom was 24 years old, selling vegetables at her parents’ stand in the Mercado. Dad approached one day looking for sesame seeds, but rather than asking for ajonjolí (pronounced ahonholee), he struggled through various vocabulary and pronunciations (ahoholey?) until my mom finally understood him. She found his fumbling so dashing that she gave him her phone number and they began dating. Eight months later, my dad explained that he had to return to the States to renew his visa and my mom got worried he wouldn’t come back, so she proposed. He said “I’ll think about it,” then he said “yes.” They got married and lived in Mexico for a bit. When the paperwork authorizing my mom’s travel was delayed, they took it upon themselves to make their way North. They traveled by bus until they ran out of money, hitchhiked, and swam across the Rio Grande. My mom couldn’t actually swim, so dad actually tied milk jugs under her arms and she floated across. Eventually they made their way up to Port Henry, New York, which is where my story begins.