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| Boqueron Beach |
Horses on the road. Yes, horses on the side of the road grazing as I drive to my Titi Annie's house. Delicious food. Heavy, delicious food that sends me feverishly searching for fruits and veggies in a local grocery store. Boqueron beach. A beach with a 2 hour sun worshipping max for me. A beach that can be calm and beautiful or loud and messy (depending on the time and season). Breezy, sticky, rainy, humid, sunny...Puerto Rican weather in a nutshell. Mama Maria. I feel her love. I feel her concern for my well being. I feel her getting use to the idea of having me around. Titi Annie. So eager to help...successfully making me feel like I live there already. Stepping in as my mom away from home and amazing me everyday with the breadcrumbs Mama Celina (my maternal grandmother) obviously left in her spirit. She follows them everyday and is often misunderstood and under appreciated for just how much she loves, values and honestly wants to support her family.
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| Mish -n- Ma |
Subways. They get you to your destination while you read or write or daydream or sleep. They remind you to count your blessings as kids sell candy "not for no basketball team but for money to keep me off the streets and out of trouble", as a woman begs for money because she lost her home and family in a fire, as men sing for pocket change or "whatever food you might have to spare". Cubicles. Co-workers...from the overstressed and miserable to the numb and happy....hopped up on Starbucks and lost in lunch. Tomatoes. Mom's organic tomatoes fresh from her garden...along with her monster cucumbers, butternut squash and field greens. My basement apartment. Where I use to joke I was a troll because I've only lived in 1st floor or basement apartments since I got my very first apartment back in 2000. Where the rumble tumble sounds of my brother and his family above my head has become a comforting and safe sound. Rain, chilly rain that makes you want to cuddle...New York City weather gears up for Fall. My dad. Singing and dancing to the sounds of Elvis Crespo. Triathlon dreams. Firefighter rescue stories. Swim dates at 6am. My mom. Fresh, delicious food. That laugh. Those legs moving to Salsa grooves. Guacamole. BBQ's. Lil Bro Erto Berto. Seeing a boy become a man right before my very eyes. Gentlemanly charm at the drop of a dime. Intelligence and promise that he can't even see yet.
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| Mish -n- Pa |
I am in limbo. Stuck between two worlds...the world I am about to enter but yet feel like I'm there already and the world that I have to continue to function in until it is time to fully depart. I can't lie, getting up this week to get to work has been difficult. I have no excuse, no viable reason for strolling late...I don't even have a bad attitude. I'm just here...thinking about being there. Counting the days until I can be honest with everyone about what I'm doing and where I'm headed. In the meantime, trying to pull my head out of the day dream clouds and deal with the mountain of "to do's" that need to be checked off in a timely manner. Professionally, I'm gone. Personally, I'm also gone...until I sit and begin to think about how many and how much I'm truly leaving behind. I'm scared. I'd be a fool to say I'm not.
Subways. They get you to your destination while you read or write or daydream or sleep. They remind you to count your blessings as kids sell candy "not for no basketball team but for money to keep me off the streets and out of trouble", as a woman begs for money because she lost her home and family in a fire, as men sing for pocket change or "whatever food you might have to spare". Cubicles. Co-workers...from the overstressed and miserable to the numb and happy....hopped up on Starbucks and lost in lunch. Tomatoes. Mom's organic tomatoes fresh from her garden...along with her monster cucumbers, butternut squash and field greens. My basement apartment. Where I use to joke I was a troll because I've only lived in 1st floor or basement apartments since I got my very first apartment back in 2000. Where the rumble tumble sounds of my brother and his family above my head has become a comforting and safe sound. Rain, chilly rain that makes you want to cuddle...New York City weather gears up for Fall. My dad. Singing and dancing to the sounds of Elvis Crespo. Triathlon dreams. Firefighter rescue stories. Swim dates at 6am. My mom. Fresh, delicious food. That laugh. Those legs moving to Salsa grooves. Guacamole. BBQ's. Lil Bro Erto Berto. Seeing a boy become a man right before my very eyes. Gentlemanly charm at the drop of a dime. Intelligence and promise that he can't even see yet.
You had me a little teary-eyed with this post, Mish. It's the struggle between the old and the new, the familiar and the foreign. I know you're going to do GREAT in PR, and you're going to grow in so many ways! But I'd be scared too if I were you, and that's completely normal. What you're doing is courageous and not a lot of people have the guts to "pack it up" and leave for adventure and self-discovery. Buena suerte amiga! I'll see you before you embark on your journey fo sho!
ReplyDeleteAwww Desi!! There are a range of emotions I go through sometimes but at the end of the day, I'm already on that plane...ya know? Thanks for your continued support and best believe there will be more than a few opps to get up before I bounce ;)
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