This is the data I have collected over the last 22 years:

6: The number of years I spent with my father before he was arrested.

3: How many years by Papi spent in jail going from cell to court and back again. My mother and I spent those 3 years traveling in a similar A to B to A pattern; From Detroit to Milan, Michigan to Detroit every Friday, Saturday, and Sunday waiting for his sentencing. Even though I was only 6, then 7, then 8, I can still remember the visiting hours: from 4 until 8; from 8 until 3. We never missed a second.

674: The number of miles between Detroit and the Federal Correctional Institution in Sandstone, Minnesota, where my Papi was sentenced to 15 years. It took my family one year to save enough money to move those 674 miles to be close to him.

Many of these numbers may not mean anything to you, but to me they represent the miles, years and barriers we faced as a family.

949,879: The difference in population from Hinckley, my new home, and Detroit.

According to the 2000 Census, Hinckley’s Hispanic population was one percent. My mom, my brother, sister-in-law, cousin, nieces, nephews, and I were that one percent.

44: The number of miles we traveled each weekend to visit my Papi. We would talk about how he was going to stay away from what took him from us and how he would see me graduate high school and go on to college. I used to joke with him a lot and tell him that I wanted to attend an out-of-state school because I thought he called me too much. But he never thought that was funny. I remember him giving me the birds and the bees talk: the only thing he really said was that I shouldn’t worry about birds and bees, but think about A’s and B’s.

I was 13 years old when I started to forget Spanish. My Papi made me read and write to him for 45 minutes every visit until he felt my Spanish was up to par.

2006: The year my Papi came home. I was so happy we were a family again. It didn’t hurt that now I could sleep in on the weekend like a normal kid.

My father started looking for work 3 weeks after he was released. He applied to a number of private and public businesses in Minnesota. I remember because I was there: filling out the applications and driving him to drop them off. We never heard from any of them.

It was during this time I started noticing people around town acting differently. They were not as friendly to me as they were before. My friends weren’t able to come to my house anymore. Moms and dads who used to cheer me on in track and basketball now seemed reluctant to speak to me.

91: The number of days after my Papi was released before we left Hinckley to search for employment in the Twin Cities.

7: The number of days after the move when my mom was hired at Family Dollar; my Papi was denied. On my mom’s first day of work, I decided to skip school and help my dad look for employment. We applied at 10 different locations that day. One of them told my father to call every morning at 7:00 am until he was placed at a site. He was never placed.

30: The number of days it took for the rejection letters to start coming in the mail.

Sixty days later, my Papi and I were still spending countless hours looking for employment. Although this was a frustrating time for us, I had the best laughs with my dad. The car rides are some of my favorite moments. After I would drop him off to drop off the application, he would always emphasize the importance of me going to college because he didn’t want to see me struggle like we were now.

90: The number of days after my mom’s first day at work, where they both had applied, that she got a 10-cent raise. My Papi was still unemployed. I started to see his frustration as a father and man; he wasn’t able to help us with the bills.

91: The number of days after my mom’s first day at work that my father decided to go back to his old ways. He knew we could not afford the rent, food, our car, gas and electricity n a single $7.50-an-hour paycheck.

7: The number of months it took before my Papi was charged with intent to sell to an officer.

I felt it was my fault that my dad had resorted back to selling drugs. I thought I really could have helped him find a job. But looking back all of the odds were against us.

My Papi was acquitted on all charges.

4: Months between my Papi’s acquittal and his deportation to Cuba.

3: The number of years I’ve been in college. My entrance to the University has been my parents’ biggest accomplishment. If it wasn’t for my Papi to be everything he couldn’t be, I would not be here today.

2,537: The number of miles between where I stand today and where my Papi taxis people from point A to B to A again in a horse-drawn buggy. He earns 10 cents a rise.