This entry is part of the Miami Migration Short Essay Contest. The program, created by Cátedra Vargas Llosa, was designed to engage young people in South Florida in the art of writing while reflecting on their migration experiences.

My name is Nicole Aguiar and I am Cuban, but I was born and raised in Miami. My parents were the first people in my family who had the courage to search for a better life and immigrate to the U.S. I am grateful every day for the sacrifices that they made to give me a better life. I’ve grown up hearing the story of how my parents had to give up everything they had to escape communism. The story starts with my dad, who was a doctor in a small town called Limonar in Matanzas, Cuba.

My dad had always hated communism, he didn’t agree with the Cuban government and how they didn’t care for their citizens. He experienced it firsthand whenever he had to care for a really sick patient and he knew that he could save their life, but the hospital didn’t have the resources to do so. He would experience it when he had to care for malnourished babies, because there was no formula. He really realized how horrible communism was when my grandpa, (his father-in-law) became extremely sick with cancer, would have violent seizures, and there was nothing he could do to save him,
because the hospital could not give him the surgery he needed. My dad moved in with my mom after they got married and he always considered her family his own, especially since his own parents had passed away when he was younger.

My grandpa did eventually pass away, and life became a lot more difficult for my family. Just because my dad wasn’t a communist, they took away his job at the hospital. They also kicked my mom out of her job, because at the time she was a high school history teacher. My mom’s sister was the one that now had to support the family. My parents knew that they could not keep living like this, so they tried to escape Cuba on a motorboat in the middle of the night.

My dad was able to escape on his third try, but before that, the police had thrown rocks at him, and he got put in jail for 18 months just for trying to leave. My mom’s sister had to bail him out of jail. My mom tried to leave on a motorboat 17 times, but she would always get caught. My parents’ immigration story is also a love story, because they were separated for 3 years before my dad could make enough money to get my mom to the Mexican border. He would always send my mom money for food and necessities, tell her how much he loves her, and that they would be reunited soon.

My mom had to go on a 9-month long journey from Brazil, to Panama, to Mexico, where she eventually crossed the border. My parents were finally reunited, and they couldn’t be happier. A couple years later, I was born. My parents are my biggest inspiration. Every summer when I go to Limonar to visit the rest of my family, I hear stories about how my dad saved someone’s life, or how my mom welcomed people into their home, and just overall how much they helped their community. They truly have the most beautiful hearts, always helping everyone they can, whether its sending food or money to Cuba, or taking in a cousin that just immigrated from Cuba, they’re always happy to help. It was because of them that I learned the beauty of life, and that even when life gets hard, your family will always support you.