on a cloudy night, when nothing seems above...still, there is love

While sitting in Bavaria Café yesterday, I overheard a Skype conversation between a young woman sitting at the table to my left, and her boyfriend back in the States.  What began as an upbeat and lovely conversation quickly catapulted to another extreme when her boyfriend proudly announced his exciting news.  He’d been offered a job working as a life coach for underprivileged kids in Boston.  The job didn’t pay much, but, as she knew, it was something he’d wanted to do for a long time, and the school had offered to cover his room and board for the duration of his employment.  The young woman, in Xela to study Spanish, was silent as she listened to him describe the job in further detail.  Once he’d finished, and after a somewhat uncomfortable pause, he prompted her to share her thoughts.  What happened next made me cringe.

The first words out of the woman’s mouth were not celebratory, they weren’t congratulatory, and they certainly were not those of a woman who loved this man.  Instead, all this young woman could offer was a “you know that this means we’ll be living apart for a year and that you won’t be making any money in the meantime...”  I could hear the man’s enthusiasm deflate as he spent the next twenty minutes trying to persuade his girlfriend that this was his opportunity to shine.  The conversation ended with a curt “we’ll discuss this later because I have homework,” followed by the slap of the computer screen hitting the keyboard.  Within moments, she turned to her classmate to relay the selfish ways of her “soon-to-be-former-boyfriend.”  I wanted to scream.  Loving is supposed to be selfless, not selfish.

There are things that people want for themselves…sometimes these things change, sometimes they compromise, and sometimes they disappear as if they never even existed.  It is the beauty of desire that what is desired is not something you cannot live without.  Then, there are needs… those things that define someone, that make a person feel whole… things that give life its purpose.  Often times, these needs don’t change, disappear, or compromise, and they are not things a person can live without.  To truly love someone is to be satisfied with those things that can compromise and to respect those things that cannot.

As my summer in Xela comes to a close, I find this lovers’ quarrel particularly relevant.  In one way or another, I spent a great deal of my life compromising those things about me that could not be compromised, and at the end of the day, I couldn’t understand why my direction in life felt foreign or why my relationships were often nothing more than distractions and space-fillers.  This place, this experience, and these people… they all helped me to see that the person I actually am is far greater than any person I could ever try to imitate, and if I don’t crave the best for me in my life, I’ll never ever find it.

So, with that being said… to little miss’ boyfriend back in the States, go find the person who says, “go do what you gotta do… my only requirement is that you shower when you get home.”  Your heart will thank you for it.

Like Mother, Like Daughter

I can’t remember what exactly prompted me to come to Guatemala this summer, but the more I think about it, the less it matters.  The decision was never really my own.  It was fate that led me here… to learn about my ancestry… to understand my mom, and in turn, to understand me.

Growing up part Cuban in my father’s very white, very wealthy, and very proper family wasn’t always the easiest, and although my mother never feared being herself around them, a lot of our Cuban ancestry was nonetheless swept under the rug.  As a result, I began studying French at the age of four, I studied abroad in French and English countries, and I didn’t even want to start studying Spanish in ninth grade.  I thought I related more to my French heritage.  Boy, I was wrong.

A few months ago, my mother made the observation, “you are your grandmother’s daughter.”  In doing so, she was referring to my heart and its need to help anyone and everyone.  She’s right.  Most of the good in my heart is my grandmother… and it should be.  She has been one of the most influential forces throughout my entire life.  I learned how to love by watching her love.

It was just this morning, while my Guatemalan mom was asking if I wanted leftover birthday cake for breakfast, that I realized something rather clever… something I bet my mother didn’t see coming.  While a large part of my heart is my grandmother, a large part of me is my mother.  The way I make noises when I think, my dark hair and eyes, the strength of my loyalty, my newfound ass and boobs, the depth of my passions, the reason I know no stranger, and yes, even my love of leftover birthday cake for breakfast… I got it all from you.

So, Mom, while in Guatemala… I found your attraction to the color turquoise.  It really does make the world a more beautiful place.  I realized why cookies are a breakfast food, and it stems from the question, why not?  I began to understand why learning Spanish is so important to you.  It feels like a piece of your heart is missing without it.  I discovered why it takes you forever to tell a story… you’re Latino and you ALL do it.  I became real thankful for your gift of rhythm and the way I can shake my ass.  I figured out how you see something in nothing.  I think it’s in your blood.  I fell in love with the way you love your father.  I wish I knew him the way you did.  I already knew a pot of black beans could heal the world.  I verified it though.  Lastly, I began to appreciate our sister-like relationship.  Among Latinas, there is no delineation between where a woman stops and where her daughter begins.  It is one of my favorite things about Latino culture and about us.  <3