I come from Costa Rica. I small Central American country full of life, color and vibe. The positivity is contagious. The smiles will be honeyed into my mind for years to come. In that country, we ran on top of rocks, barefooted. And we swam in rivers, discretely covered by grand canopies of green. The Jungle – is where I come from.
I would slide with a cardboard box down a hill and pretended to have wings like the colorful Tucans. I’d ride my bike across the town and play “futbol” ’til six pm. The street lights would struggle to turn on and warn me that if I didn’t run home my dad would drag me by my ear. On those long & hot summer nights, the breeze carried dancing fireflies. And The neighborhood kids would gather on the abandoned lot to catch them in a jar.
I never thought that one day I’d leave home for. . . ever.
But my mom told me then, that things change as you get older. Now that I think about it – I never really listened. I was too preoccupied with fairies and gnomes. I swore they used to sit by my window in the middle of the night. The moon would uncover their shadows. I may have been afraid, but I was in a daze, exhausted from flying with my broom from couch to couch.
Those were some beautiful days.
One day maybe, after carrying my Bella for nine months, I’d like to tell her about that world. I grasped the very end of something magical I believe. But, perhaps all of us nowadays feel the same. Bella & I will converse about the universe, the spiritual waves of indigo blue, violet, yellow hues – the choice of colors the sun uses to paint her afternoons. . . I will tell her about the ocean breeze and how back then, her grandma’s house was hiding deep in the jungle, and it would take us an hour on foot, through a dirt road to get to the ocean.
I wonder if my child will also play hide and seek, climb some trees, and fill my life with laughter & innocence. She’d be raised 15 minutes away from Philadelphia. . will she be able to catch on to Spanish the way I talk it?
But honestly, I think I’ve lost my touch as well. Whenever I visit nowadays, I can barely communicate how much I love my cousins. Is it because I’ve grown colder now? The deep sighs of where I come from, are faint from all the way over here.
Sometimes I think I hear the gnomes talk to me. They wonder if I’m doing fine. . . you know, I think they used to dig holes up on that hill across my grandma’s old house. I used to think they lived in there.
Nowadays, all I hear are airplanes atop my forehead before I go to sleep from exhausting 9-5s.
Will that be the sound that soothes her in the morning? Instead of the rooster signaling time for freshly brewed coffee. . .
My oh my, how my fears have changed. . .
My oh my, how times have changed.
Thank you for Reading!
Hey, guys! Although, Flukypixels.com is a website focused on very specific things. I also want to make sure we don’t forget creativity is a very powerful tool for inspiration. So, as a poet, I want to promote this magic. Who are your favorite lady poets at the moment? What kind of art do you use to wind down or gather yourself?
Let me know in the comment box below.
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