50 is the new ‘veinte’!
Last Sunday, I arrived to San Diego in one piece (despite terrible turbulence). My mom picked me up a few minutes late, and we then crossed the border into my home country. Oh how I don’t miss it… but I came for one purpose, and one purpose only: my dad’s 50th birthday. It is a bit strange to think that he’s only turning 50, because that means that he had me when he was 23, which is terrifying in itself because, at my 26 years of age, I can’t for a single second imagine myself with child.
I often get friends from home on facebook demanding I come visit, complaining that they don’t see me often, and badgering me about stuff that, to be honest, I care very little about. I don’t mean to sound like an asshole, but for example, I cross half the planet (isn’t that how America sees itself) to come home, and the moment I get here it’s like pulling teeth to see them. They’re often unavailable, and somehow they manage to blame our unsuccessful encounters on me. I am sorry, I don’t have a cellphone that works here. I have facebook, and I post on it that I’m home and you know where I live and you have two feet or a car or a donkey or whatever and you can displace yourself to where I might be! (yes, that was purposely a run on sentence with no proper punctuation)
So yes, I was here and after a few complaints from friends, I did see one of my friends on the first night. It was nice catching up. Then the next day, after again, trying to gather up everyone (I swear, herding a few dozen blind sheep is probably easier), we all went to Puerto Nuevo to eat some lobster! It was delicious. Later that night, we ended up at my friend’s house again. Not much to write about. It isn’t that interesting. It’s not the purpose of my trip.
I came home and went to bed relatively early and relatively sober for the second night in a row. It felt strange, but I was pretty tired still from all the traveling and my last few crazy NY party nights.
The next morning it was my dad’s birthday! I woke up, got dressed, went to the dentist (right next door to my dad’s clinic), and gave my dad his present. I got him a Baume et Mercier watch with a black dial and a black alligator strap. Extra slim. He loved it. I left. Came back home. Took a 30 minute party nap (I swear I believe my ex when he used to say that coming here always gives him a Mexicoma and all he wants to do is sleep), and headed out with my mom to meet my dad for a late lunch/early dinner (according to American mode de vie), or just a lunch (if you’re on Mexico time). The restaurant, which I used to love, was subpar. Not sure if my standards have raised, or if the restaurant’s have lowered, but I was dissatisfied. Food was pretty good. Service was shit. My dad said that, in fact, it was the restaurant’s quality that went down.
Got back home. Took another nap. Woke up. Showered. Headed to my dad’s surprise party. I called my mom to let her know people were inside, she brought my dad, who was barely surprised, and it began. Pictures were taken. Hugs were given. Presents were opened. Surprisingly good food was served. Tears were shed. My sister sent a video message from Spain wishing my dad a happy birthday. There was a very long photo montage of my dad’s life. All in all I’d say a good time. My dad gave a very moving speech and mentioned he was glad, above all, for my mom for putting up with him all these years. I think they’re getting back together. I got drunk. Left at around 11, went back home with two cousins, drank some more, and managed to be my own self, instigating, and bringing up uncomfortable topics to talk about (but I only do this because I love them).
The montage made me think a lot. I am not a very emotional person. I ended up rationalizing everything that was going through my head as the pictures were popping up. All I can say is that my dad is a great man. Probably one of the greatest I’ve ever met. It was nice to see this timeline of his success in all aspects of his life. Sure him and my mom are divorced, but they’re still somewhat together and they gave birth to three amazing persons (and I’m not just saying this because it’s me and my siblings, we’re often told so by others). He started from basically nothing and built all that he has by himself. Somehow, looking at his pictures when he was in college, I could tell that he knew he was going to be great… there was something in his eyes. Everyone in that room thought the world of him, and not just because he’s family, but because he’s earned it. One of my cousins was crying intensely (which I found a bit dramatic, but then again, that’s him). Like I said, everybody thinks they have the best dad in the world. I don’t think so. I know so. And if I’m ever in doubt, I’m constantly reminded by others I do. As for the title of this post? Well… midway through the party I followed my grandfather outside and saw him smoking. I asked him for a cigarette. I have to state that me and my grandfather didn’t talk to each other for years and it wasn’t till last month that he actually started to acknowledge my presence again. I had a nice chat with him. He mentioned how he wasn’t sure my dad would make it to 50 (he’s always been dramatic like that). I don’t like hearing those things. I know my dad’s been having some health issues, but as far as I was concerned, he’s been doing better. I went back upstairs and I saw him dancing around and acting young again. Hence the title, and hence why I feel him and my mom are getting back together. I could sense that young love again.
Today I’m off to LA. It was nice and relaxing to be here, but it’s starting to itch. I need my American air again. Tomorrow I’m off to Europe. It still doesn’t feel right to be going… but who cares. I’m sure it’ll be fun. New York, I can’t wait to be back.