I am working on my next post, about RED- the best color for the Boom Boom Room like Pitbull likes to call it, but on this Sunday- I can't help but to feel blessed and share a quick story about la gracia del Dios!
When I was younger events were set in motion that caused a huge tear in the fabric of my family. I was like all of you- humungous family of titis (tias)- sorry, in my Puerto Rican family we call them titi, tios, primos, primas. Every Wednesday we would head to mi titi's little apartment in the Bronx and pile in like carne in a pastellio (empanada)- OK, earlier explanation still applies. All one thousand of us would spend all night there. The kids would all squeeze into one room the size of my current closet and play atari all day while the adults talked bochinche (gossip)(chisme) en la cocina. It was my life and my family was all I knew. Then, in the blink of an eye, I lost all of them. The circumstances and what was right and wrong at that time have no matter in my heart. All that matters to me, is the loss that I felt with the absence of all of the cousins that I grew up with. I lost a little part of me and my Puerto Ricanism (in my mind). After all, mi abuela was more into local food than cultural. I would've said American food, but PR is part of America too! She spoke perfect english and it was her language of choice, so we did not have to speak spanish ever, unless around the extended family. Furthermore, I was the only child in my house that spoke or even understood spanish in the first place! When you don't use it, you sure do lose it- a lot of it, but not all. It is like riding a bike. But it was more than the speaking of spanish that made me feel less hispanic for a while. It was the closeness I shared with others, the comradery
with my own that I missed.
A few years later we moved to Massachusetts, much to my rebellion. I went from the city to the suburbs, which felt like the boonies- FOR REAL! Yes, there were Puerto Ricans, but not too many where I lived, and they were no fun! My family was everything a great hispanic family should be- loud, alive, fun, loving, bold. I missed that! I had no idea how my cousins were growing up? What high school was Michele attending? What college was Lenny going to? How did little Monica look with longer hair? I missed all of that- and while stubborn adults thought this was the right thing to do, it took a lot away from the kids it affected- like me!
Every few months I would search on the internet for my lost familia. You know how easy they claim it to be to find your lost loved ones- THEY LIE- it's not! You can find anybody- for a price, but the long list of people with the same name and the possibility that the one I pay for might be the right one was just too much maybe for me.
Well, I found them finally, two weeks ago. Facebook brought us all back together after nearly 20 years and I cannot explain the joy in my heart. Now I live in Arizona, three thousand miles away. I had never been unhappy to live here until I found my family. Mi titi whose apartment we crammed into every Wednesday is now 82 years old and still cooking arroz con gondules every week (on Thursdays now). My cousin Michele is getting married in less than 2 weeks and the others are all doing well in NY and NJ, some with families of their own, like me. I hope that financial success, which I hope will pick up again soon for my company, will allow me to visit frequently to try and establish a new bond with them again. Mi familia is back! I look forward to getting to know them again...
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