A couple of years ago I was eager to tell my parents I was getting married.
So I threw my bride-to-be in the car and drove down the road.
We walked in.
They were arguing. About what, who knows.
I told them to sit down. I had exciting news.
Eventually they settled. I had their attention. Briefly.
Then I said it. “I’m marrying Carla.”
In Spanish, of course. Cuz they no speakee English.
My dad said nothing. Then muttered a congratulations after a long pause.
My mom said, “I don’t want to be an Aguirre.”
My father’s last name.
Okay….
She kept going. “It’s not worth it. I’m over it.”
Oh. Ok, mama.
So I let it go.
We talked about the weather and the rotten kids that never call her.
They weren’t interested.
They’re too tired and resentful to care.
Kinda like always.
This one just stung a little more.
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