Tag: am writing

September Sixteenth

September Sixteenth

by TheSecretLifeOfPandas ♥ 0 Leave a Comment

Viva México!

How are you viviendo México hoy?

My coworker Juan asked me if I was going to celebrate today. I just laughed and said no. I’m tired and old. He just chuckled. I like Juan he’s quiet and seems sweet. He gives me first gen vibes.

Yesterday my neighborhood was wild and awake and full of energy. People were shouting at the top of their lungs and honking their horns in celebration. 

How do I vivir México?

I do that a lot. Speak Spanish in English.

It’s having a Spanish brain colonized by English speaking surroundings. “En esta casa se habla español,” becomes, “háblale a tus padres en español,” becomes “speak what you’re most comfortable in, they understand you anyway. They’ve lived here for a majority of their lives.”

It’s not being a “no sabo” kid. Thankfully, you’re not that bad. You tell them it’s ok, it’s not their fault they don’t know Spanish. But still, you clutch your gold name plate given to you by your Nina, and think, Como puede ser?

You can’t imagine not being able to jajaja con la Cuatro on Saturday nights, or fully understand how Chente was El Rey.

Yet every September you feel like you’re missing out.

I don’t really honk my horn or get dressed up with flags. Even though they’re readily available for weeks on every corner in my neighborhood.

It’s not my way. It’s not my tradition. My parents were not like that. And I guess that’s why I’m not either. We’re not. My sisters and I, the types to wear the red, white, and, green and wave flags on the corner. 

Sure we went to the parade downtown. Early in the morning on a Saturday. Stopping at the two story Mcdonald’s on Randolph and Dearborn for breakfast. But once the parade was over, we went home and packed up the flag for another year. 

What do you need a flag for? When you’ve got that huge nopal on your forehead?

How much does it matter?

Am I not Mexican enough when I say my last name in Español, or say mande when someone calls me in Spanish? Or how about when we get together to make tamales using my grandmother’s recipe?

These are the tiny flags I wave on a daily basis. The shouting I do from my kitchen.

Viva Mexico, every day.

NPM 20

NPM 20

by TheSecretLifeOfPandas ♥ 1 Comment

The way it happens, you wouldn’t give it a second thought.

Slowly it starts.

The changes are imperceptible.

You think she’s just being a little crazy.

Stubborn.

Weird.

It’s something else. They get this way when their sugar is too high.

She’ll be fine.

How could you know?

How could any of us know?

Maybe it’s when she stopped watering the flowers in the morning.

Maybe it’s when she stopped getting up to pray.

I don’t know.

By the time we realized what was happening, it seemed so sudden.

I still cannot bring myself to say the word.

Saying it gives it life.

Even when there’s no denying it, I still will not say the word that breaks me when I see others her age thrive.

I will not say the word that makes me question the fairness of life and fight with God.

So I kiss her face, the one they say I so resemble, and caress it softly like a child.

I try to make her focus on me, when she seems miles away.

NPM 18

NPM 18

by TheSecretLifeOfPandas ♥ 1 Comment

I knew.

Even when he couldn’t say it yet.

I knew.

Even when it broke my heart to not hear those three little words back.

I knew.

Because his actions spoke louder than words ever could.

I could feel his love.

It was his gentleness, his calm demeanor, his kindness. It was the tiny gestures he did without thinking.

How can you deny that love?

When you catch the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not paying attention and you see a face so enamored with you, you don’t know how someone could ever see you that way.

It is a love that could be felt even before we both realized what it was.