I wrote this book because I believe that beautiful stories should be told, especially true stories.
I lived in Madrid for the first 26 years of my life. The year I was born, my father was sworn in as a policeman. My mother stayed at home with me, and so did my aunt for the first few years of my life. When I was five, my aunt moved out and my mom started working as a government employee. The fall I entered second grade, my dad joined Law School, which in Spain is a five-year commitment. He would wake up at 5 a.m., study for a few hours, work during the day, and attend evening classes. I send forward all my admiration not only to him, but to my mom, who felt the pains of loneliness, and the frequent burden of running a household by herself. My dad finished law school brilliantly and started working as an attorney inside the Police Department. I went through formal education with no complications, finishing high school with honors and entering the university that had the highest GPA requirement at the time. I developed a taste for languages and learned French outside of school.
Three months after my eighteenth birthday, I faced a tremendous loss. I walked the long, rocky path of grief. For that reason, college wasn't easy. I struggled, but walked out with a master’s degree in Electrical Engineering. During my final year in school, I earned a grant to participate in the European university exchange program (Erasmus), which allowed me to do my final work and write my master’s thesis in Germany. By then I had learned German and some Russian. Upon my return I continued learning Russian and started Italian. After a year of working in Madrid, I decided to come to the U.S. for a few months. It’s been over ten years now. California was meant to be my new home—the right place to develop professionally and a matchless melting pot for personal enrichment.
I always marvel at how life unfolds, almost mysteriously; how seemingly insignificant decisions carve our very existence. When I found myself at the most unexpected fork of my life path, I chose love. I never regretted it.
I lived in Madrid for the first 26 years of my life. The year I was born, my father was sworn in as a policeman. My mother stayed at home with me, and so did my aunt for the first few years of my life. When I was five, my aunt moved out and my mom started working as a government employee. The fall I entered second grade, my dad joined Law School, which in Spain is a five-year commitment. He would wake up at 5 a.m., study for a few hours, work during the day, and attend evening classes. I send forward all my admiration not only to him, but to my mom, who felt the pains of loneliness, and the frequent burden of running a household by herself. My dad finished law school brilliantly and started working as an attorney inside the Police Department. I went through formal education with no complications, finishing high school with honors and entering the university that had the highest GPA requirement at the time. I developed a taste for languages and learned French outside of school.
Three months after my eighteenth birthday, I faced a tremendous loss. I walked the long, rocky path of grief. For that reason, college wasn't easy. I struggled, but walked out with a master’s degree in Electrical Engineering. During my final year in school, I earned a grant to participate in the European university exchange program (Erasmus), which allowed me to do my final work and write my master’s thesis in Germany. By then I had learned German and some Russian. Upon my return I continued learning Russian and started Italian. After a year of working in Madrid, I decided to come to the U.S. for a few months. It’s been over ten years now. California was meant to be my new home—the right place to develop professionally and a matchless melting pot for personal enrichment.
I always marvel at how life unfolds, almost mysteriously; how seemingly insignificant decisions carve our very existence. When I found myself at the most unexpected fork of my life path, I chose love. I never regretted it.