I recently stumbled upon this beautiful text (original in Spanish) written by the incredible Victoria Perea where she talks about her life as a newcomer to the USA, as an immigrant mom with bittersweet feelings about leaving Mexico, and conveys a beautiful sentiment of reminiscence that all of us who live far away from home can relate to. I am lucky enough to have met her in our journey as Mexicanas in Seattle; she is a sweet new mom of a little one around the same age as my toddler. Her words touched me deeply, so I kindly asked her if I could share them here.
Gracias Victoria, may your journey continue to bring you light and love.
In this time, I have learned:
That hummingbirds and eagles have a favorite branch where they come back to every day and place their wings and bodies and seem to contemplate their surroundings. They always return to the same place at different times and observe without seeming to get bored of the same view. Instead, they observe that place and space as if it always had something new to say to them, living together as if they were almost unaware of the presence of humans.
I have learned that airports used to get me really excited, but now they also make me sad.
That vitamin "D" is essential in life, especially if it gets dark at 4:30pm.
That, when you move to another place, you leave everything behind, except your issues, those all fit in the suitcase, and the little buggers, don't even pay excess baggage.
In the same way those issues come with us, so do close ties and relationships. And no matter how long we go without seeing each other, those relationships remain faithful to the essence that characterizes them.
I learned I still yearn to talk to any Spanish speaker I pass by on the streets. I've also learned that we recognize each other without even saying a word, most of the time. There's this non-verbal, implicit language in which a glance at each other is enough to say, "I see you, don't worry; I also miss good mole and my mom's tortillas. "
I've learned that time really is relative, and while every day I want to stop it so that my little whirlwind that goes around our house stops growing so fast, I am also eager to see him grow and gain back those pounds he lost when he got a cold. Isn't that contradictory?
I learned that contemplation and silence are more necessary than imagined.
That being an immigrant takes you away from certain people and brings you closer to others.
That being a mother takes you away from certain people and brings you closer to others.
That you can practice a profession without working, and work without practicing any profession.
I have learned to work on my patience -my son has helped me a lot with that one.
I've learned to tolerate the loneliness that comes with being new. Places, relationships, and even the weather (particularly the weather!) New and unfamiliar becomes a constant, and there is always a new flavor, an unknown person, a unique accent, and a few new words. It is an absolute newness overload! (That without including that I am a newlywed, new mom, and recently unemployed, to mention a few more news)
Exciting, no doubt, but oh so tiring. And when surrounded by the new and the unknown, you realize that you are only left with yourself and what you already know. That, in turn, forces you with deafening silence to hush, long for, and remember.
Thank you Victoria for these beautiful words that remind us that while we each walk our own path we have so much in common, we are a community sticking together and walking into all that newness as generations have done before us, seeking a better life and a better future for their families, leaving behind the memories of our beautiful homeland.
Happy end of the year, Queens. It's been fantastic!
Éxito, Salud, y Amor.
- Queen de mi Corazón
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