Personal Narrative: Tortilla Chips

2008. A simpler time for most of us, and most likely you, the reader. I was definitely a simpler being, as I was a toddler at the young age of three. With my growing up, the downfall of my parent’s glory days came. They spent all their time with me: entertaining me, caring for me, and utterly disintegrating the tantrums that came with the wonder of life that was a child. However, all of that doesn’t matter, because on the oh-so-wonderful day of September 1, 2008, at 12:49 PM, I tried my first ever bite of tortilla chips with queso. I recall the screaming and tantrums that occurred every time we went out to eat. Kicking, punching, abusing my parents in general. I guess I was just a spoiled kid, but I simply refused to eat anything other than
He sat our drinks on the table and set a pasty pale yellow mixture beside our basket of tortilla chips. At this time, I had stopped crying and was taking long, heaving breaths, like I had just been pushed under the ocean for five minutes and was struggling to breathe. As my father crushed a tortilla chip into smaller bits on a napkin and picked up a medium-sized shard of the remains. He pinched one corner of the miniature chip with his thumb and index finger and dipped it into the bowl of the liquidy thing sitting in front of me. As he lifted the chip out of the bowl, he told me to open wide. I did as I was told and he placed the chip inside of my mouth. I close my tiny lips around it, tasting every crumb. I nodded in approval and reached for another shard of the crushed chip. Ever since then, I’ve loved every bit of Mexican food and it has even inspired me to learn about Mexican culture. I am currently learning Spanish and hoping to celebrate Dia de los Muertos, also known as the Day of the Dead, this year. Eating Mexican food and examining their culture has led me to a richer, more exciting life, all thanks to one tortilla chip way back in