Homesickly Homesickly

This morning I woke up earlier than I set my alarm for, an indication that I was in for a long day. I got dressed in slow motion, staring at my shoes for a long time and my mind not really thinking about anything. These new happy pills sure are magical. I haven't cried or cut in 3 weeks. I also haven't felt much of anything. Just a dull blank. Can't complain.

I opened the screen door and walked out on the deck, immediately feeling the humidity wrap around me in a wet, suffocating embrace. The sun was coming out, and the temperature was rising steadily. My first thought was: "Christ. It's muggy and hot. UGH!", only to stop dead in my tracks and take in a deep breath...while holding down the knot in my throat. I remembered the last time I had experienced a morning like this.

This is how every morning in my sleepy, tiny hometown in the mountains of Puerto Rico is. You're already sweating and the hair is frizzy within 2 minutes of walking out your front door. I stood there, in my front yard in Odessa, Texas, staring at the red sand under my feet. Must have lost my mind for a few minutes, because I vividly saw my old bright yellow Converse shoes with the bright red laces stepping up the soaking grass hill on my way to my grandmother's house. I saw the plaid skirt, with the wide pleats and my white polo shirt with a gray vest...my school's uniform. My eyes almost saw my morning like I used to at age 15, the island breeze carrying the smell of sea up into the mountain, mixing it with the strong smell of tropical fruit coming from our mango tree in the yard. Then my eyes almost swept the front yard of my grandmother's house, and saw my grandfather's white Oldsmobile...with him smiling up at me behind his big, brown plastic framed glasses. I almost heard his voice calling my name.

Then some dogs started barking and I was brought back to reality. No trees. No roosters. No grandfather. Just pitbulls barking in the distance, the sound of a weed whacker going at it in some alley, the smell of sulfur that's ever present in the air here in West Texas. No one was calling my name. No one ever would. I had now traded paradise for desert, and plaid skirts for casual business attire. My braids for a simple pony tail. My college years for working years. My friends for a laptop. My dreams for someone else's.

Alas, the past is the past. Look at me, Grandma, I'm all grown up. Ain't it a shame...