I am from pale coffee cups, who blissfully kiss my father’s lips every morning
From Windex and old dust brooms in the far corner
I am from jungle décor mixed with modern day technology,
And pictures hanging on the wall for my angelic brother,
Reminding me of days when he was still far away from heaven
Apple and cinnamon burn on the wick of the candle in the corner
I am from the blooming purple and red flowers on our patio
The giant shady tree that hides our apartment
Bears its broken branches under the scorching sun
I’m from pink decorated Quincenera parties and drunken conversations
From tia Blanca and uncle George
I’m from meaningless arguments and laughing hysterically
And from Corona celebrations that last from dusk till dawn
I’m from “don’t stay in the car alone or the big wolf will come and get you!”
And the “days of the week” song from pre-kindergarten
I’m from the arrival of Grandma from Nicaragua, get-together
I’m from Miami, Florida and Chinandega, Nicaragua where my mother’s heart belongs
Pasteles de pina and tamales . . . always delicious
From the time my mother and father fought about the passing of my brother
And the way my mami’s tears made me feel hurt
throughout my entire aching body,
I couldn’t bear watching her crumble to pieces
Grandapa’s pristine hat with the feather on the side and my brother’s old smoke charred rings
Grandpa’s hat is always in daddy’s room and my brother’s old belongings are kept permanently
In ‘mi corazon’.
Old pictures of family members are in my sight as I remember the days when life was so much more sweeter.