Fifteen and naïve, there was nothing my father could teach me that I already didn’t know or at least I thought. At times, I can still be seen weighing the many advices he gave me growing up. At the tender age of fifteen, my father decided to move back to Colombia. While it has taking me a while to forgive, I understand his many reasons for doing so. His leaving left some ramifications, especially for my mother and eleven year old sister. Coping wasn’t a decision; it was a necessity. Graduating high school, I had an option to go to school or work. Down an income, helping my family seemed like a no brainer. Dishwashing, construction, lawn maintenance, food-prep I took any job to make ends meet. Struggling and exhausted, I had no