"Twenty-five years ago, my mom and dad kissed for the very first time.
Angelica Ledesma Ledesma and Francisco Lopez Jimenez grew up in a town in Mexico where the most romantic spot was on a bridge over a river. The river has more oil and grease than water in it. Want to hear a story? One day, someone lit a match and threw it in the river. If it were any other river on the planet, the match would've gone out. But this was Salamanca and the match didn't go out, it lit a patch of oil on fire and people had to hose down the river to set it off.
Sometimes if there's enough light, you can look down at the river and see rainbows on the water from the oil that's sitting on the surface. I wonder if my parents caught a glimpse of them when they kissed for the first time on that bridge, or if they were too happy to notice."
- 16-year old me, the first page of an old journal.
I know the L word is pretty heavy and at the risk of overusing it, I'd like to say the following: I love my parents, I love that they love each other, and I love that I exist as a byproduct of what started on a bridge overlooking a river of oil and rainbows.
