Edgar Ruiz Jr.

It was scary.

It was like looking into a mirror for the first time and seeing your reflection.

I love my dad.

Last summer, I finally allowed him to be my father.

Now I want to tell you things have gotten better for the guy, but we've probably seen some of the news coming out of Puerto Rico.

Political unrest, earthquakes, Hurricane Maria.

And that was before the pandemic.

But my dad is a survivor.

He does what he has to do to make ends meet.

And I try to do as much as I can for him, but he's one of these prideful Puerto Ricans that rather live in a house with half a roof and no power than to take a handout.

But I do what I can.

I have to, he's a part of it.

Not too long ago, we were hanging out, I was on vacation, and I noticed that his sneakers was looking run down.

Like I seen better sneakers hanging off power lines in the hood.

So I tricked him, took him to the mall, the same exact mall he took me to when I was 12.

And I told him, pick out whatever sneaker he wanted.

And after like a 20 minute argument, because he's hard headed, just like me, he finally picked out a $20 pair of no name brand sneakers.

And I turned to him, and in Spanish I said, no.

That day, my dad walked out with a fresh pair of Nikes.

And I know he loved them, but not as much as I love those old Topey knockoffs, thank you.