1990’s seattle
My father, emilio came to Seattle in the early 90’s searching for new work opportunities that no longer required being outside in the fields. my father had a few cousins that were already living in the bellevue area and had work connections in cleaning office spaces and local restaurants. previously spending the past 5-7 years working long days on the fields of northern California – he knew his body was in need of a break.
By the time I came around in 1995, my parents had both lived a novel of a journey with my two older siblings to get established in esta jaula de oro. Living south of Seattle, in Blvd. Park, meant we usually didn’t pass the I-90 for anything. But, on those rare occasions we went north of I-90 and drove thru the city, we heard the same story every time. my earliest memories of downtown Seattle are centered around a single phrase my father always repeated, “Cuando de primero llegue a Seattle, mi primer trabajo fue limpiando oficinas en ese edificio alli.” He would say as he pointed at the Columbian Tower. It’s wild how our parents can say simple things like that, but we can feel the pain, struggle and journey. My older siblings constantly rolled their eyes each time we heard my father tell us about his first job in Seattle and I know it’s because of the long conversation that happened afterwards.
My father wanted more for us, he wanted us to one day be those big execs with the office with the best view. He felt so much pride in being able to say that he once worked in one of the fanciest, and tallest buildings in Seattle. Imagine what it must have felt like to go from growing up on a rancho to now being in the city?
Being my usual Pisces self, I dived deep into what my father was feeling.
I always knew that I would feel like I made it, once I worked in one of those big, tall downtown Seattle buildings. Throughout my 7-year legal career I have worked in three different Seattle sky-rises and each time, I get the same feeling as I’m going up the elevator for the first time.
As my right foot walks ahead of my left foot, I feel like I’m walking into something that wasn’t meant for me, yet I am taking it without asking for permission. I can feel the hard work and difficult journey my father took to get us to Seattle. All of that felt as if it were my pain.
I walk into these buildings and own it. I am my father’s wildest dreams. I am a manifestation of what he wished his children would be like, back in 1990. I am his hopes and product of his dedication.
I never walk into those buildings alone. On that first elevator ride up the big fancy buildings, I am taken back to my 5-year-old self, sitting in the back of our old family car hearing my father, once again, tell us all about how he worked as a custodian in the Columbian tower. I am a walking manifestation and I do not hold back.
