My Third Parent
When I was four, my sister tricked me into thinking that my aunt was actually my mom. And I believed it.
My aunt was the person I clung to on my first day of kindergarten. I begged her not to leave me in an unfamiliar place filled with complete strangers. Growing up, she was like my third parent. She would call me to ask where I was. She’d nag me about the mess in my room.
For my mom and dad, she was a safety net. They knew my sister and I were taken care of at home. From five in the morning to well into the night, they work at our family business to pay the bills and put a roof over our heads.
This is how my family gets by. And there are a lot of benefits. Though, it can also be a struggle to balance family dynamics. For instance, I’m sure my parents probably wish they were there for more moments in my life. I wish for that too.
But, I don’t want anyone, my aunt or my parents, feeling less important since they all play key roles in supporting me. I know they’ve all sacrificed something to make me who I am.