Esta Vida…

The first morning light hits and soothes me awake. I had just been dreaming of the childhood I used to know, cacerolazos and roaring discursos bolivarianos, of bright insects and brighter mangoes.

I get up, disfruto el primer traguito de café, and listen to la radio. Each sip punctuated with awake-dreams, each exhale in between visions of lo que podría ser, of what could be and will be.

I make and feed, I kiss and tickle, I play and listen. Step out on the street and the city awakens, with each step I know there is another face, another story with a soul yearning, not just to speak, but to be listened to. I sit and listen; we listen — most of all, we hold each other, una unión entre almas. United in the belief in the beauty, stronger together in the midst of the fold.

We sit and we share and there is story time waiting for us en la casa. A home cooked meal with a side of organized chaos, cada loco con su tema, pero todos locos juntos. A home in the heart and a place to call home.

The life I want.