Home

Home. A simple four letter word that holds such a powerful meaning. I live in a city where most people around my age want to leave. They want to pack their things and never look back. I won’t lie saying I am not one of them. You tend to outgrow where you grew up. All you see are the things you hate, what you can’t stand. You ignore the beauty it holds. I guess you could say I had forgotten.

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I grew up taking this street to church every Sunday. I know it like the back of my hand. Not once did I ever take notice of the shops, restaurants or people. All I saw was a street. A street filled with crowded cars and people jay walking. I was blinded to classic beauty of each bench, each building, each cobblestone on the sidewalk. I was senseless to the smell of Mexican food in the air, deaf to chatter of different languages as families strolled by.

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But than my eyes had cleared, my ears could hear and I could smell. It was awakening. Yes, I’m anxious to one day leave all this hidden beauty behind (when I am able and ready of course) but I hadn’t realized that with all this I wouldn’t me. I realized that this is home. This is my childhood. This is where I grew up and has helped me become who I am today. Despite the horrendous traffic, rude people and endless construction I’ve been able to eat great Mexican food, Cuban coffee, and speak different languages (to the best of my abilities).

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Home. A simple four lettered word that holds such a powerful meaning.

This is home now and always.

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