When Things Were Simple.

Every summer, my parents would put me on a plane to Colombia where I would spend 3 glorious months with my grandma and uncle. I remember the careless days of dance classes at the local dance studio, playing hide and seek with the kids on the street, eating hotdogs sitting on the front yard and swimming until my fingers were prune-like. My cousins would spend the weekends with me and every Sunday, the whole family would go to our family’s country home where we’d gather for lunch together, usually sancocho, fritanga, asadito and refajo.

Every year that came, as we got closer to the summertime, my excitement would grow. I loved those summers in Colombia, I loved the carelessness, although back then, I didn’t know what being careless was at all.

Eventually everything changed. At the age of 12, I was sent to Colombia to go to school and experience high school there, and then came college and my return to the States, eventually I moved out on my own, there was the matter of my identity, Who am I? What do I want for my life? Love, bills, men, sex, a career, a job, social responsibilities, ethical choices, moral survival.

Other times were more simple, but I wont say today isn’t more exciting.

Cheers to the world, my world.


*Currently listening to Better Thing by Passion Pit*