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.
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.
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).
Home. A simple four lettered word that holds such a powerful meaning.
This is home now and always.