1. The Plane Tickets in Mexico
When I was around five or six, my family took a trip to Mexico to visit relatives. It was my first time there, and while there were some good moments, parts of the trip felt heavy—especially watching my sister be treated unfairly by one of my dad’s relatives. There was this subtle, quiet tension woven through the visit that I didn’t fully understand at the time but still felt.
On the last day, we were at the airport getting ready to fly home when chaos hit—my parents realized our plane tickets were missing. I remember seeing the shift in their faces—from confusion to panic. My mom tore through the suitcase over and over, digging through clothes, zippers, everything. Nothing. They were frantic, trying to figure out what to do. Would we have to stay longer? Could a relative loan us money for new tickets? Could we even afford that?
I don’t remember exactly what I was thinking, but something in me just knew the tickets were still in that suitcase. Not in a panicked way, but with this quiet certainty. I went over to the same suitcase my mom had already turned upside down, unzipped a pocket, and pulled something out.
“Are these the tickets?” I asked.
And they were.
Everyone froze for a second. My mom was stunned. My dad couldn’t believe it. They had checked that suitcase over and over—but somehow, I found them. To this day, my parents still talk about that moment. For them, it wasn’t just lucky—it was a miracle. And now that I’m older, I get it. We were far from home, money was tight, and life was already hard enough. That tiny, quiet moment? It meant everything.
2. The Day My Grandpa Protected Us
In middle school, my sister and I had a falling out with a girl who had a lot of influence—someone we suspected had stolen from me and didn’t take the accusation well. She stirred up drama, got others involved, specifically this fighter girl, and eventually turned the situation into full-on bullying. It all escalated into a fight on a Monday after school—just days after we found out our grandpa had suddenly passed away.
Funny thing is the fight wasn’t with the girl who more than likely stole the stuff, aka my sister’s “friend”, but with some other girl who the “friend’ basically used to fight for her.
Anyway, that day, I walked out of class and saw my sister standing alone under a tree, surrounded by a circle of girls— not certain, but it seemed like there was at least 20 of them. The fighter girl was in my sisters face yelling, intimidating, and isolating her. Her two “friends” stood off at a distance.
You could imagine how angry I felt seeing this and my sister alone, being intimidated by this random fighter chick who had nothing to do with the drama in the first place, but was just a pawn.
The fighter girl who had been instigating everything for a while, even though it wasn’t anything to do with her, kept spewing profane rude things to my sister. I got tired of it and tried pulling my sister away for us to go and said “you don’t have to listen to this BS”.
As we were walking away, fighter girl shoved her from behind, and boom. The fight began.
My sister isn’t a fighter. She was doing her best, but this girl clearly had experience. Within seconds, she was on top of my sister, and I remember freezing. Everyone says you’re not supposed to jump into a fight—but I couldn’t just stand there. My sister was getting hurt.
So I did what I thought was in my hands to do. I prayed—not out loud, just in my head. I asked my grandpa for help. I told him I didn’t know what to do, but I needed him because I needed to do something for my sister but was scared.
And then something happened.
It didn’t feel like me anymore. It felt like something took over—like I was watching myself from the outside. I walked up, grabbed the girl by her backpack she was wearing, and somehow—despite being small, scared, and inexperienced—I threw her.
Not just nudged. Not pulled. Threw.
Her body hit a tree, and for a second, I thought I had actually hurt her. I was shaking thinking I killed this chick. To me it felt like forever, but it was prob a matter of seconds and just the adrenaline rush.
Anyway, at some point, she got up. By then my sister had recovered enough to defend herself.
To this day, I still believe my grandpa was there. I don’t know how else to explain the strength that came out of nowhere. It felt like he heard me—and stepped in to help.