I Miei Genetori Sono Bravissimi

Well, after a weekend of (allegedly) working my butt off on papers and research excursions to the Aventine, the Capitoline and Ostia Antica, and the rest of this week, which will doubtless be fraught with stress of varying shades and urgency, I'll be off to Paris for the weekend.

Let me say that again. I'm going to go to Paris for the weekend. That's one of those sentences that, if you're ever lucky enough to get to say it, you should take a close look as the reasons why you can. I am fully aware of the two main reasons I'm able to say it: their names are Kurt and Kathy Jackson.

I had another moment this morning, while standing in the Pantheon taking notes on centralized, domed structures of antiquity (find me a better place in the world to have this class, I dare you) when it hit me again. I've gotten used to the kind of suffocating joy that occasionally shows up when I take a mental step back from the mundane (hah!) of everyday life here and actually realize where I am and what I'm doing. It's at these moments when I realize how undeservedly, phenomenally lucky I am to have my parents.

For my entire life, which now borders on being 21 years long, my parents have basically done everything for me. They've provided me with every opportunity, every chance I could have possibly wanted and more. For my entire life in Great Falls, they not only sat through plays and awkward recitals in sweltering auditoriums, but they got more involved in my strange activities (judging for speech tournaments? ugh.) than I had any right to expect. They were constantly doing everything they could to keep me safe and happy and to give me a future and an education that they thought I deserved. They supported me and gave me everything, even when there wasn't a person on the planet who could have been less aware of how lucky she was.

And then they sent me to college. They didn't just send me to college, either. They drove me there. From Montana to Michigan. That drive sucks. And my dad has done it four times now. If that's not a testament to love, I can't think of one. Now that I've seen comparatively more of the world and have more experience with people my age and the concerns that they face, I realize that my chance to go to college is more of a gift than I will ever be able to deserve. College (mine in particular) is expensive. The economy is weak. There are two kids coming up behind me. And yet Kurt and Kath don't ever mention any of that.

In fact, as incredibly huge as the chance to matriculate at a school that literally seems to have been tailor-made for me is, they've given me still more: they've given me this chance to travel and experience new parts of the world. And every morning, when I wake up and head to class at the Vatican or the Roman Forum, and when I can plan to go to Paris for the weekend, I can't help but take a step back and marvel at the sheer generosity and love of which I'm the undeserving recipient.

I don't pretend to have been the easiest child to raise by any stretch of the imagination, and I know for a fact that I was often supremely, audaciously unaware of just how much they did for me, and are still doing for me. But right now I'm having a moment of clarity that compels me to thank them. I really like the person I am. I like the fact that I am able to deal with situations presented to me competently (a lot of the time...), the fact that I like to try new things, and the fact that I'm not intimidated by putting myself out there. I like my curiosity and my eagerness to learn. I like my work ethic, which is a lot less sporadic in real life than it manifests itself here. I like my sense of humor. I like my sense of right and wrong. And I know that I have my mom and dad to thank for all of these things I like about myself. I also know that these things have helped me get to where I am, will help me get to where I want to go, and most especially are helping me right now deal with the curve balls that life in a foreign country will throw at you.

I'm going to go to Paris this weekend, and I'll joyfully return to speaking a language that's always been such a constant part of my life. I try to emulate my mom's passion for French and transfer the joy she gets from speaking that language into my own academic pursuits. I try to remember her enthusiasm and interest in people as people in my daily interactions. I hope that someday I'll have the courage that she does to put herself out there and really try to make a difference, even in the face of indifference, which is often a more disconcerting enemy than outright antagonism.

My dad is going to celebrate his birthday while I'm in Paris. I feel like the only way I'll ever be able to express how much his constant, unerring dedication and commitment to giving me, as well as my brother and sister, the best of everything have meant to me is by applying those principles of dedication and commitment to my studies and my life, which he has worked so hard to provide for me. His love of learning and his intimidating knowledge of basically everything make me want to work harder so that I can make him as proud of me as I am of him. I can't express how much I appreciate everything you've done for me, Dad. Happy Birthday!

I'm a lucky person in so many ways. I'm sure this fact hasn't escaped you, as I recount my adventures, and I'm sure it'll be made clear to me once again with all the force of a frying pan to the face when I'm reunited with Mona Lisa on Saturday. And I really just want to acknowledge where all my opportunities have come from, and to thank my parents so much for my life. It's pretty damn awesome.