A Lesson From Dad
By Isabel Kelly

ìPasajeros con destino a Miami, por favor embarcarse,î the words came from the loud speakers the day I boarded my first flight to the U.S. The airport was crowded with loud energy: people hustling, luggage scattered on the worn carpet, and loud noises coming from all directions. The waiting was over and it was finally time for me to depart. Tears were running down my cheeks as I said good bye to my sisters, relatives, and friends who had come to the airport. I had been on plane trips before, but this time the circumstances were different. I was going away to college, far away from home, and who knows when I would see my family again. In the midst of all the hugs and tears, I took a deep breath and tried to calm myself by thinking on what was ahead. After eight hours of flying, my parents, who were on a business trip, would be waiting for me at the Miami airport. It was such a perfect plan. I would get off the plane on this new foreign land, and mom and dad would be there waiting for me, just like home.

While a junior at the University of Chile, I started the process of applying to different universities in the United Sates. I was living at home, like most college students do in Chile, and my life had become too routine and comfortable for my liking. As soon as I started my search for schools, I was like a child waiting for Santa to arrive. I was eager to get home each day to check if a college had responded. Santa did show up one afternoon with a letter of admittance to the University of Oregon. With a dictionary in hand, I read the letter over and over again. I couldnít believe my fortune. I was so excited!

But the joy only lasted until my father came home later that night. He had not been enthusiastic about me studying abroad in the first place. In his opinion, I needed to finish my bachelor in Chile and the traveling could come later. In my opinion, I needed to take this opportunity because later may never come. He thought I would never finish a degree in Chile or the U.S. I was determined that I would complete my studies in both countries. But most of all, he thought I was too young to live far away from the family. I was excited to try it out.

I had never been on my own before. I had never had a job, rented a house, or managed money. Let alone do it in English! I refused to think about the challenges though. I felt that once in the U.S., it would all come to me; and I would learn. My dad, on the other hand, continually reminded me of every little detail that could go wrong. My head was spinning with his unsolicited advice. Looking back, we were probably both just as anxious and were helping each other prepare. This was a time when the modern conveniences of computers, phone cards, and internet banking were non existent. Communication between countries was difficult, and dad probably thought that his oldest daughter was not ready for such a daring adventure.

The day of my departure came sooner than expected, as it always does. During the flight, my thoughts fluctuated between the familiar world I had left behind and the unknown experiences I was about to encounter. When the pilot announced that we would be landing in Miami in a few minutes, my whole body tingled with expectancy. In a few minutes I would be sharing with my parents all the ins and outs of my departure and my last days in Chile.

After making my way through customs and baggage claim, I proceeded to look for my parents. There were a multitude of people, walking fast from here to there, young and old, all races and sizes, everyone speaking in English, and everyone preoccupied. At times, I thought I saw my dad and I headed in that direction, but it wasnít him. Other times, I thought I saw my mom, but it was someone else. The scene kept repeating itself. Where were they?

Long minutes passed before I found a bench to sit on. My eyes were tired of searching among the throng of fast moving faces. My legs were tired of walking and standing, standing and walking. I was scared and I needed to sit to either cry or gather my thoughts.

All of a sudden, I remembered something my dad had said before leaving. ìRemember, we will be staying at the San Jose Hotel in Miami Beach. Here is the card with the information. Do not lose it.î

After engaging in my first English dialogue, I boarded the bus which I hoped would take me to the right hotel. I felt that I had just run a marathon in the hottest and most humid weather I had ever experienced. Some hours earlier, I had left the chilly winter in Santiago, and now I was drenched with sweat. I sat on the first seat of the bus and intently looked out the window, purposely not making eye contact with anyone. The unfamiliarity of the surroundings and the uncertainty of not knowing where I was going made my breath shallow and fast. I didnít want others to notice that I was scared. ìSan Jose Hotel!î the driver yelled. I quickly got off the bus.

The bellman helped me transfer my heavy luggage into the air-conditioned hotel. I hurried to the reception desk praying that Alfredo Aceituno was one of the guests staying there. Before the receptionist had a chance to answer, I saw my mom and dad racing towards me in the hotel lobby. Without saying a word, we hugged and held on to each other. My dad was the first to break the silent embrace. ìHoney, I am so proud of you! You found your way from the airport to the hotel, now I know that you will do well being in the U.S. on your own.î We spent a fun-filled week in Florida, and there was no need to talk about what would have happened if I had never found the hotel.

When I look back on this experience, which happened thirty years ago, I can only think of the deep respect I have for my dad. He taught me on that day that he never doubted that I would be able to find where they were, and there is no reason why I should ever doubt myself.