"Write about something you wish didn't happen but did, and the result gets you here now."
After graduating from high school, the company Fresnillo PLC—the biggest in the state—was selecting two guys throughout several high schools to award them with a full scholarship—both food and lodging included—in LaSalle Laguna College, in Coahuila, one of the biggest of the northern part of the country.
The miner group selected me.
My expectations were too high when they contacted me. I started traveling every weekend for a month to know the campus and where I would live, who would be my immediate bosses, and where would be the Autism Center I was about to work. I felt that opportunity as an excellent shot for my future vocation. I always wanted to master multiple languages and enhance my English in a prestigious school. Therefore, the career I chose was Languages and Public Relations.
After receiving my high school papers, I immediately packed my books—The Martian was my new sensation—clothes and dreams and got in the car. Leaving my home behind had never been an activity that affected me; however, that time, I knew something bigger was coming. I cross myself.
My experience once inside was spectacular. I would live with twelve guys in what would be known as The Residency—A modest house located close to the main campus. Each of the three six-meter rooms was jam-packed with four students and their belongings.
* * *
On my first day of Induction and Conversation class, I found out that several classmates came from other countries and already had a few languages mastered. I felt naive. Every aspect was being incredible until after my first week when She arrived. I instantly fell in love with a girl named Karina—a pretty-well-dressed girl coming from Michigan. From then on, my heartbeat incessantly every time I saw her. According to her best friend, she felt the same. Our connection was not only diverse but tempestuous. Yet, I did great in my subjects.
"These are policies from the university, not ours, and we can not pay the rest of your scholarship, that must run for your count," said Cesar Luna. "we are very ashamed with you, but those thousands of extra pesos could be gathered otherwise. Maybe if you talk with your parents, you can do it to pay for the rest of the tuition every semester."
The news that the university would move to a larger location and raise operating costs hit me like a bucket of ice water. That was it? Just like that? I thought. "I have to figure out a realistic plan."
I decided I would quit university. I stood in front of a paper piece with the most analytical intention and wrote my chances to survive there. Because of the excessive price my parents must pay, I took that judgment. "Let's quit this. They don't deserve this chaos."
That same night, I sat on a park bench in front of the residency, took air, screamed for a couple of seconds, and moaned a lot. The cold wind of the desert, combined with the starry dark sky, made me shake as if it were snowing.
I promptly recognized I was following my heart taking that choice; however, I did not know what part of it was deciding. Some tears appeared. I took out a handkerchief from my pocket, and instead of wiping out my tears, I put it on my back. That minimal action relaxed me, as though it were a hug.
People rarely see me cry because it is not something I enjoy. I feel sad sometimes; everyone does; it is part of a person's character. Nonetheless, crying is very annoying for me. Following the previous events, I stood up from my sitting position, grabbed my cellphone, started walking, called my counselor—David—, told him what was happening, and hang up. Two minutes later, I contacted Cesar Luna—my employer from the company—told him the same unexpected message, and agreed to sign my retirement papers. In two days, everything finished.
The next week I had quit. I was back in my home village, editing some flyers when I received a call from the Senate. I had applied for a job there several weeks before but did not meet the requirements, so I had forgotten it. Without knowing, the following day, I was stepping into Mexico City. The real chance was there, not in Laguna. "Thank you, God," I muttered. "I will do it for them."
Onward...
Comments
Post a Comment