A former coworker of mine found out that he is going to be a grandfather. He posted a jubilant note to broadcast the news to friends. In his post, he commented that he doesn’t care what sex the baby is nor what she calls him. He’s just so damn happy to be a grandparent!
That got my wondering what my brother wants his new little grandchild to call him.
That got me thinking about my own future grandchildren and whether or not they will call me “abuelo” or “abue” or “papa”…
Then I thought about my own roots, my own sense of “from whence I came”. I got sad because I do not feel like I can take my children to see the place where I grew up. I can’t show them the houses I lived in. I can’t show them the school that I went to. I can’t take them to places I hung out or the spots I took my dates. I can’t share that with them.
My wife can do all that. They walk in her footsteps all the time. We lived in her hometown before coming over here. So, they understand their mother’s past in a different way.
And that’s when I found the words: I am afraid of you, Mexico. Seems silly, doesn’t? Maybe. But I do not feel safe returning to see you right now. I do not feel safe sharing you with the people I love the most. You are out of my reach, and it is so unfortunate. It used to make me sad. It used to depress me. Now…now I just see it as so unfortunate.
I know that I am just one person. You won’t miss me. But I will miss you. I love you. Did you know that?
Who knows what tomorrow will bring. For today…pues hoy te extraño.
Illuminate Possibilities 