A Photograph

I’m crying my eyes out. I feel so sad, so impotent. “You cannot force people to love you they way you expect them to,” my therapist repeatedly told me. Still, no one can prepare you for that when it relates to a member of your close family, and it’s hard. It’s fucking hard!

I try to take my mind off of it by browsing through my phone, cleaning out old or repeated pictures, and I stumble upon one of me as a baby. I say to my younger self, “This, too, shall pass.” What else could I say to little me to be able to overcome this hard, sad time?

Just look into your past and realize all the things you’ve accomplished! Realize all the things you’ve missed, and my God, all the things you are still waiting to do! You should know that all the times you thought about dropping the towel or even jumping off a bridge were not worth it.

I wish I could stumble upon my younger self now that I’m almost 40, to tell you this:

-You are a consequence of all the people, places, friends, food, religion, books and pets you have crossed paths with, so savor it! All of it – the good, the bad, the ugly. It all will become part of your life and memories.

-Save money, my dear! I know you’ll come across so many things you’d love to buy, places you’d love to travel to, clothes you’d like to wear. Trust me, having a little bit of money to spare will save you a great deal of problems in the future. Just put some money aside. You won’t regret it.

-Love, love with all your heart and soul, but I hope that you can also understand the difference between love and attachment. Loving someone and being loved by someone should come easily, like waves in the ocean. They might come strong at times and wash over you, but at times they can also be calm. Just let love be. Don’t push it, because if you have to, it’s probably not love and has become something else.

-Embrace your awkwardness. You will not be everyone’s cup of tea, but you shouldn’t change who you are just because you are not liked by everyone. You are an acquired taste, and if some people don’t like you, maybe they should acquire some taste.

-Do not take things so personally. The world doesn’t revolve around you.

-Be safe. I know that a lot of times you’ll feel like there will be no consequences for your actions, and you will grow to be a very lucky and fortunate person, but don’t push it. 

-Growing up you will hear people say that you are very intense, and you will not perceive that in a positive way. I wish you could understand how beautiful and important this intensity will become to you. You’re not crazy, it’s just who you are. OWN IT, GIRL!

-Follow your dreams! But do not expect them to play out in the romantic way you see them in your head. Following your dreams is also fighting for them. Do everything in your power to show only yourself that you are capable of doing anything you’ve ever put your mind to. Persevere. It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.

-School will be hard for you, very hard, because you are a dreamer. Just understand that you have to push yourself. Unfortunately, our culture needs you to go to school, just try not to be so lazy. You are smart, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. It’s just that the format doesn’t work for you. But guess what? You’ll eventually have a college degree! 

-You will understand quite late the meaning of gratitude, but once you do, your life will revolve around it, and it will be beautiful. Be grateful. Always.

-Do not say yes just to be polite. You can say no when you want. If people don’t like it, again, do not take it personally. Maybe they aren’t worth it.

-The shape of your palate… yeah, it’s not that common. You think it is, but it’s actually quite rare. And oh yeah, one of your ears grows to be quite a bit bigger and different from the other, and your belly button is crooked. But again, my dear, even though you think early on that all of these are horrible things about you, they will be quite handy for impressing the boys! USE THEM TO YOUR FAVOR!!!

-Trust your instinct. It will feel like witchcraft sometimes, BUT THAT’S OK! You are full of magic. No one but you needs to understand this. You’ll save yourself lots of tribulations if you trust your instinct.

-Say what your heart feels. You’ll have to let it simmer, and let it pass through your brain to get absolute confirmation of what you want to say, but don’t let other people dictate what you say and do. Your heart has a voice, too. Let it resonate, or you will explode. Let it speak.

-You will suffer a lot of losses, and you’ll always ask yourself what you could have done differently. Maybe a few things here and there could have been avoided, but all of those things have brought you to this moment, to this precious, imperfect life that you love to live.

-Accept your femininity. It’s not a burden; IT’S A WEAPON – the most powerful one you’ll ever have. Embrace it, accept it, own it, love it, feel it. BE IT!, BE A GIRL, BE A WOMAN! BE YOU! 

-Going to therapy is not only for crazy people. Trust me, it will change your life. Sometimes the best thing to do will be to just put your heart out there for someone to show you why it’s hurt and how you can heal it.

-We are all different. What society sees as a standard regarding your education, livelihood, appearance, sexual preferences, shape of your body, color, race or whatever, shouldn’t shape you. Just be yourself. Don’t be what people or society tell you to be. Above all, do not feel bad because you are not what they ask you to be. It’s ok.

-Forgive and forget, but don’t let whatever experiences life gives you go down the drain. Bad things (more than good ones) also carry lessons. Trust me on this.

-Let go, my darling, let go. This too shall pass…

Finding

I got a promotion and with it I had to move to Queretaro. I was living in a beautiful apartment in Mexico City just around Condesa, but when I got the promotion, I was ecstatic! I have always loved change, moving around and finding new places.

But shortly after I received news of the promotion, I met a guy, and our relationship became pretty serious in a matter of weeks.

The happy feeling of moving to Queretaro soon vanished because I didn’t want to spend a second away from this guy that had become so important so fast. I promised myself I would make it work, and every weekend for 4 months, I went back and forth to be with him. Until he broke up with me. I went back to Querétaro with a broken heart and no one to actually talk to about the situation. I was in this new place, living by myself and just crying my heart out. I felt lonely and sad, and all I wanted to do was leave this new place and go back to Mexico City and make the relationship work. I was devastated.

Every day I would drive myself to my office just to come back and fall down into that lonely abyss and cry myself to sleep every night. I was feeling so deeply alone.

A few days passed, and one morning I went down the stairs of my house to find a cat inside my living room. She didn’t move, meow, or get scared (God knows I sure did!). She gently and slowly walked towards me and then started rubbing herself on my leg. I leaned down to stroke her and ask her, Hey! How are you? What’s your name? I saw a collar but no name tag. She turned around and ran to the window and left just as silently and swiftly as she had when she entered the house. I remember smiling and taking a box of cereal back to my room. To my place of solitude.

Later that afternoon I called my mom and told her what happened, and she immediately said,DO NOT FEED IT MONO! It’s not your cat! You don’t know where it’s been or if it even has an owner or anything! If you feed it, it’ll always go to your house just for food, and well, you are going to be feeding a strangers cat! PLUS, YOU ARE SO ALLERGIC! DO NOT FEED IT MONO!

“OK, Mom! OK! I wont. Thanks for your input.

The next day, though, the cat was back in the house again. She explored a bit more, going all the way into the kitchen and now answered by meowing in reply to my random questions. It was very weird how she kept interrupting my solitude with her very mystic and majestic personality, as if saying, “Hey there! I’m just checking if you are still alive. OK, bye now!” And she left again.

The weekend was over, and I went back to work. When I returned home that evening, the cat was waiting for me ON MY BED! I was very surprised to see her there, but I was also quite happy to find someone to talk to. I didn’t feel so lonely. That day I discovered that “it” was a “she,” and I started calling her Gatita (Kitten).

A whole week passed, and Gatita kept getting into the house during the day and getting out during the night. I figured she was just going back home, but for the next week, she stayed over, and after that she never left. I never saw a sign asking for a lost kitten. I asked my neighbors, but they had never seen her before. So I started feeding her, and my mom went a little crazy (along with my allergies).

I TOLD YOU NOT TO FEED HER! Well, never mind, send me a picture or something. Is she pregnant?! OH GOD, MONO! WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH BABY KITTENS?! I hope she doesn’t have fleas! Does she have a name? AAAAWWWW, YOU SHOULD CALL HER FELIX!!! TAKE HER TO THE VET! WHAT IF SHE HAS RABIES?!

OMG, Mom! Do you want me to keep her or not?! How can I call her FELIX if its a SHE?! You know what? I’m taking her to the vet. I’ll talk to you later.

The sadness that was instilled in me previously quickly disappeared with the thought of seeing with my cat every day. I never gave her a different name, and Gatita simply turned into Tita. She would sit next to me at night until she fell asleep and wake me up with little purrs in the morning. I started to feel better in no time. When I finally stopped thinking about my ex (whom I shall call Israel) he suddenly called me and asked me how I was and how was I feeling. Then I told him about the cat and how she had helped me with the sadness he caused me after we broke up. He was so excited about the cat and very sorry about what happened. He confessed he missed me and said a million other things, and eventually we got back together. Later on, he moved to Queretaro, and Tita was only the first of three cats we ended up taking in. Each of them found us exactly when we needed it, in magical and unexpected ways.

Israel and I decided we were going to move abroad, the 12,500-kilometer trip was a big deal. The first thing we knew was going to be difficult was moving away with three cats. There was never an argument about not taking them. NEVER. We knew they were coming with us, and that was it.

When we made the decision to move, we took the cats to the vet, and started the research for the trip. But then something happened. Tita started to leave the house and not come back during the night. Our cats were always free to go out and about if they wanted, but they always came back home for the night. Tita left for three nights straight, and we almost lost our minds. A neighbor told us she had taken care of Tita the same way I was now until Tita found me. Tita would go to the neighbor’s apartment for a few hours then leave. She began leaving for longer periods of time and then entire nights.

We realized right then and there that Tita had made the decision to not move with us, and Israel was very sad about this. We had actually learned a few days before that we could only take two cats with us, and we were thinking about paying someone to take one of the cats, or send it by courier or something. We never argued about this inside the house, but Tita just knew, and she made the decision for us. I also realized right then why Tita had found me when I was so sad and lonely and why it was time for her to move on now – exactly the same way I had needed to move on to the next chapter of my life.

It was time for Israel to leave and get all our things ready for our arrival to that foreign country. The day he was supposed to leave, no one could find Tita, not even our neighbor. A week had passed since we last saw her and we were afraid she was dead, sick, or something bad had happened to her. I remember feeling a huge hole in my stomach.

We needed to go to Mexico City to catch a plane, and Israel was crying his eyes out. He couldn’t believe that after three years, he couldn’t even say goodbye to his furry baby. We closed the house doors, walked to the car, and called Tita with treats, food, and jam all the tricks in the book but nothing. Fifteen minutes passed, and we just started to drive away. I remember feeling so sad and lost. I also felt a little guilty, Israel was leaving before me and the rest of the kittens to get us an apartment and maybe a job, so that meant that I could go back home and see her again, but Israel would never have the chance to do so. We drove away.

I don’t even know how he noticed, but Israel suddenly stopped the car, opened the door, and ran back to the house. There Tita was, standing in our parking space! Israel grabbed her, kissed her, and we both cried as we said goodbye to our baby girl. It was one of the most sad yet magical moments I had ever experienced, and I was also so grateful that she was there to say goodbye.

The cat that had found me, that showed Israel and me a different way to love, was saying goodbye to us and letting us go. She was moving on and so were we.

I never saw her again. To this day I can’t believe the way she found me and showed me the path to find myself, as well as teaching me how difficult and extremely sad it can be to say goodbye. But sometimes you just have to move on and carry on.

Tita

What I miss about you…

I had a dream last night. As it always happens (at least in my dreams) some parts are kinda blurry and I’m not sure that the characters are quite defined. I do remember that 2 of my greatest loves where part of that dream. With one of them I talked, and I recall the feeling of being heard with attention bounded to love.

I don’t even know how to describe this, but it kinda feels like when you love someone, and you are listening to whatever they have to say and you hope deep in your heart that they are happy and wish them the best, just because you love them. In this particular case it felt like that but it had a hint of romance in it, and a desire that only comes from passion.

I miss that.

With the other guy, we didn’t actually talked that much during the dream. We sort of had an interaction with another person but the feeling I had was of great caring, he only wanted me to find what I was looking for. He hugged me in the way you hug a person that you love. I could smell his clothes, and it was so real that it made me wake up.

I miss that too.

I certainly loved this guys in a moment of time, and I don’t miss them, not in the romantic way that you might expect after all the time spent together, I did woke up yearning the way it felt to be loved like that by another person. I have found myself in this knowledge trip, that has made me realize that self love is very important, and I feel the love that I pour into myself everyday, and the one that my friends and family also feel for me, but after been almost 3 years single (without counting the mingle) I realized just now, that I really miss been loved that way.  And that that’s ok.

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Historia de un padre

Me dejó de dar envidia ver a mis amigas y miembros de mi familia disfrutando de una relación amorosa con sus padres. Recibir besos y un TE QUIERO o TE AMO HIJA nunca formó parte de la comunicación que mi papá y yo tuvimos y ahora entiendo o por lo menos trato de entender de manera amorosa por qué mi papá es así conmigo.

Yo fui producto de una relación amorosa muy inesperada, mis padres no estaban casados y la historia de como unieron sus vidas entre amenazas y malos tratos por parte del papá de mi mamá me hacen entender que tal vez mi papá vivió mi nacimiento con un poco de miedo y cautela.

No supe hasta hace poco, de verdad muy poco que mi papá no quería tener hijos, de entrada y luego supe que el motivo por el cual se separaron por una temporada cuando yo tenía nueve años y hasta pasaditos los 10 fue justamente porque mi mamá insistió en tener otro hijo, cosa a la que mi papá se negó tan rotundamente y resultó en una separación bastante complicada en la que fui moneda de cambio… pero esa es otra historia.

Tengo pocos recuerdos de convivencia con mi papá y en general todos ellos son compartiendo todas esas pasiones que forjaron las mías eventualmente. El deporte, los viajes, el conocimiento. Creo que cuando uno es joven lo único que quiere es la aprobación y respeto de sus padres y la manera en la que yo lo intenté conseguir fue copiando todas las pasiones que mi padre tenía, la lectura, la música, los deportes y viajar. Todo ello me hizo un poco masculina, ligeramente marimacha y bastante aventurera y justo cuando estaba agarrando carrera fue cuando mis papás se separaron y las cosas cambiaron mucho.

Cuando mis papás por fin se reconciliaron ya esperaban otro hijo y es curiosísimo, luego de sentarme y analizarlo y de horas de trabajo psicológico entiendo que mi papá por fin tuvo el hijo que no había tenido y toda atención que tuve de su parte simplemente se esfumó y se fue para su hijo. Nota, no es reclamo, simplemente fue algo que pasó y ya.

Alguna vez hablé con mi papá de ello y me dijo que sí, que sí sabía que había tomado esa actitud, que sí había hecho eso pero que no encontraba la manera de volver a retomar su afecto como padre hacia mi. Me da pena, digo, yo he tenido un camino pavimentado de una enorme cantidad de figuras paternas, que sí me dijeron al crecer lo mucho que me querían, lo mucho que me amaban y con mi papá pues simplemente lo tomé como a un amigo, alguien con quien comparto muchísimos gustos, alguien con quien platico de esas cosas que nadie en mi familia adoptó por no tener esa necesidad de aceptación y que agradezco.

Agradezco por supuesto la dureza de su trato porque me hizo fuerte, su necedad en hacerme ver toda película y caricatura en inglés porque de otra manera no hubiera desarrollado esa habilidad. Su lejanía para poder compensar con cercanía con los demás su discreción y su ética de trabajo, su pasión por el baile y su finísimo gusto musical. Su pasión por viajar y conocer, por investigar y por saber.

No hay tiempo como el ahora para agradecer y por eso en este día papá quería dejarte por escrito todas estas cosas que me han hecho lo que soy. Gracias por ser mi padre en esta vida. Que vivas muchos años más en felicidad y en salud.

FELIZ DÍA DEL PADRE!

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No termino de entenderlo

ATENCIÓN, si eres un miembro de mi familia toma nota, ESTE POST no es para ti, habla de cosas íntimas y sexuales de mi vida, si lo lees será bajo tu propio riesgo.

Sin más preambulo vamos pues:

Hace unos meses viendo un reportaje a cerca de sexualidad en Netflix me topé con una entrevista a una chica que tenía un muy conocido podcast en el que hacía un llamado a mujeres y hombres a hablar a cerca de su sexualidad y donde sobre todo hablaba de su búsqueda por encontrar la manera de sentir un orgasmo. Se trataba de una chica que ya estaba en sus 30’s y confesaba abiertamente jamás haber sentido un orgasmo y por eso su podcast y su búsqueda la hicieron “famosa”.

Últimamente y debido a una situación personal me he encontrado en un viaje de entendimiento de mi misma, de mi persona, de mis ideas a cerca de las relaciones interpersonales y muchas otras cosas más. Siempre me he perpetrado como una persona segura de su sexualidad y feliz con las relaciones de pareja e interpersonales que he tenido. Sexualmente abierta y en alguna época de mi vida irresponsable y promiscua. Nunca, he estado orgullosa de ello, debo decir que fui muy afortunada en vivir en una época en la que mis locuras solo forman parte de una memoria de algunos chicos y chicas ochenteras que fueron parte de mi desarrollo sexual.

Mis amigos, siempre han estado en el entendido de que acepto mi sexualidad y no le tengo miedo al sexo y caray, MoNo sí que sabe divertirse. Y sí, me divierto, me divertí, lo gozaba. Pero a penas hace un mes hablando con Dani le confesé que solo UNA VEZ, sentí absoluta compatibilidad con una persona. UNA SOLA VEZ.

Esta es la historia de mi primer CASI-orgasmo!

Conocí al Oso hace muchos años, era, es (creo) amigo de un hombre con el que compartí una larga historia de amor. Desde que lo conocí, aclaro, me pareció extremadamente atractivo, pero, siempre respeté el hecho de que él era amigo de mi pareja y claro DE QUE YO TENÍA PAREJA! Eventualmente esa unión terminó y todo el mundo siguió por su lado. El Oso y yo seguíamos siendo amigos así como mi ex y yo seguíamos platicando extemporáneamente.

En una ocasión el Oso y yo coincidimos, platicamos, bebimos, y nos besamos. Y eso fue todo.  -Eso fue todo esa vez- Porque luego de meses chateando a diario decidimos hacer un viaje juntos y por supuesto, el viaje fue hecho con toda la intención de llevar todas estas pláticas a un plano completamente físico.

Yo para ese entonces ya tenía 35 años! y había vivido engañada! jamás en mi vida había experimentado esa conexión con alguien, y tampoco había experimentado esa conexión con mi cuerpo. Lo que sentí rayaba para mi en lo escandaloso, no podía comprender como habían pasado 35 años de mi vida sin haber sentido algo como eso JAMÁS! y no sé por qué ME FRENÉ, frené mi cuerpo, frené mis emociones, frené mi alma, frené todo y no me dejé llevar y simplemente la mitad de mi cuerpo dejó de funcionar. El Oso me cargó para dejarme en un absoluto estado de desmayo sobre la cama y me dijo, no pasa nada. Todo va a estar bien.

NO!!! NADA IBA A ESTAR BIEN! ahora no pensaba en otra cosa que no fuera él! no podía concebir mi vida sin tener el gusto, carajo!, el placer de pasar cada instante de mi vida sexual con este hombre que por cierto vivía a 800 km de distancia mía!

Hice todo lo posible por repetir experiencias con él, TODO lo posible, volvimos a compartir espacios, viajes y momentos y no sé, de verdad no sé por qué nunca me permití llegar a el sublime momento del que piden su limosna todo ser sexualmente activo. No sé. No sé por qué. Siempre me paraba instantes antes, sólo un instante antes.

Llena de miedo confesé (a mi manera) a esta persona que se había convertido en alguien muy importante en mi vida, nunca puse todos los puntos sobre las ies, pero le di algunas pistas. Aún hoy no entiendo por qué nunca le dije, guey… eres la única persona con la que he estado a punto de sentir un orgasmo y no puedo terminar de sentirlo porque sé que es solamente algo pasajero para ti.

Yo nunca me equivoco cuando sospecho que alguien no siente lo mismo que yo. Sabía que había algo, algo raro entre él y yo, nunca tuve el valor de enfrentarlo y preguntarle qué tenía mal yo como para no querer tener una relación formal conmigo, aunque en algún momento sí me dijo que no quería comprometerse a algo serio a la distancia. JA! menuda sorpresa cuando tan solo meses después de nuestro último encuentro YA TENÍA NOVIA! Me molesté muchísimo. Tampoco se lo dije jamás.

A qué voy con esto?

Daniel y yo platicamos muchísimo, podemos estar horas y horas y horas hablando por teléfono o sentados en el sillón platicando de estupideces y cuando temas como estos salen a la luz ni él ni yo podemos resolverlos, el dice que soy una gran persona, una gran mujer, un gran ser humano, TODO MARAVILLOSO, no entiende como puede ser posible que siendo tan abierta y carismática pueda ser tan cerrada en algo en lo que percibo ser tan abierta como el sexo pero sobre todo no entiende como alguien como yo, no puede tener lo que busca en una pareja y cuando cree tenerlo, no es recíproco.

 

NO TERMINO DE ENTENDERLO…

 

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El molcajete que me prometio mi abuela

Mis papás eran muy jóvenes cuando yo nací, así que pasaban la mayor parte del tiempo trabajando y yo pasaba la vida en casa de mis abuelos, casi todos los fines de semana y a pesar de la molestia de mi mamá, prefería pasar el fin en casa de mi abuela Quina, que era la mamá de mi papá. No había más niños en la casa, sólo me gustaba estar ahí, en esa enorme casa que parecía laberinto, donde bien podía ir al anexo de mi tío Pancho o al de mi tío Chavo o con mis bisabuelos que tenían otro anexo a ver películas en blanco y negro o quedarme viendo a mi tío Miguel arreglando un carro en el taller que tenía junto a la casa.

Mi hora favorita sin lugar a dudas era la comida, en esa mesa eternamente cubierta por un plástico cristal, donde había una taza de peltre con cucharas, tenedores y cuchillos del mismo material rebozando de ella para que tú simplemente tomaras lo que ocupabas y tan, tan. Lo mejor siempre era LA SALSA, mi abuela jamás de los jamases usó una licuadora para hacer la salsa, me encantaba verla tatemar jitomates, chiles verdes, cebolla, a veces tomate verde, para hacer esa deliciosa salsa que sólo se sabe hacer de una manera; a mano bajo la piedra que machaca en un molcajete los divinos ingredientes que hacen esa salsa que, no lo nieguen es la favorita de todos los mexicanos (a los que nos gusta el picante). Ese sabor, mi abuela desafortunadamente creo no habérselo heredado a nadie, la mayoría de sus hijos fueron hombres y ya saben, las mujeres son las que se quedaban en la cocina. No he visto que su única hija (mi tía Lety) preparara salsa tatemada, lo que sí recuerdo es que yo SIEMPRE quise hacer salsa como mi abuela.

Cuando tuve edad suficiente, y cuando ya vivía sola, tal vez tendría unos 22 o 23 años le dije a mi abuela que me iba a comprar un molcajete y que quería hacer tal y como ella siempre hizo, salsa tatemada. Ella me dijo, -hija, esto del molcajete no es tan sencillo, lo más fácil es conseguir la piedra, lo difícil siempre va a ser conseguir quién cure bien el molcajete- Fue entonces que me explicó que la piedra volcánica tiene que ser curada con harina de nixtamal para que el molcajete quede bien taponeado de sus volcánicos orificios para que no entre por ahí la melcocha de la salsa, cosa que luego se puede echar a perder y -Dios no lo quiera hija, andamos infectando a alguien de un bicho-

Empecé a ver cada vez menos a mi abuela, iba tal vez una vez al mes a verla y no había ocasión en la que le recordara de mi molcajete. Un buen día me dijo “HIJA YA TENGO TU MOLCAJETE” nomás que ahora no tengo donde curarlo, las tradiciones se acaban con los años y ya sabes, ya no encuentro un molino.

Al poco tiempo, mi abuelo murió y con él el espíritu de mi abuela, aquél molcajete se quedó ahí en su casa sin curar y yo la perdí a ella también poco tiempo después, me costaba un increíble trabajo volverme a parar en su casa y con el pasar de los años me olvidé del molcajete.

Ayer, soñé con mi abuela, era un sueño raro, estaba ahí mi mamá y tal vez mi hermano, lo olvidé casi por completo, pero en un momento del día recordé “ayer soñé con la abuela”, sonreí y seguí con mi día, salí de la oficina a recoger un par de cosas con mi proveedor de plantas y flores (sí, tengo un proveedor) y me encontré a un señor ya mayor vendiendo molcajetes, no traía dinero y dije, bueno, ya en otra ocasión será. Fui al banco, saqué dinero para el fin de semana, volví por un lado completamente distinto por el que me había ido y ahí de nuevo estaba el señor, cargando una cantidad enorme de molcajetes, (traía por lo menos unos 7) me volvió a ofrecer el molcajete y lo compré sin chistar en el precio. Todo el camino de regreso venía pensando en mi abuela y su salsa tatemada, en lo maravilloso que fue pasar mi infancia con ella y poder tener aún su recuerdo tan fresco que las lágrimas corren por mi rostro al escribir estas líneas.

Gracias abuelita! por todo, por tanto! y qué crees? YA ENCONTRÉ TAMBIÉN UN MOLINO DE NIXTAMAL. Va por ti!IMG_0109

 

 

The little things

Its amazing finding your purpose in life, or at least realize the stuff that brings you the outer most happiness. I didn’t realize till a few months ago which was the thing that tickle me in that way, and the process was so subtile that I didn’t even noticed it.  You can call it a purpose, a calling, a thing, but it has brought me joy this past years in a way I cannot even describe, but I’ll sure as hell try.

I’ll start to call myself a Collateral Beauty hunter!

I was talking to Phillip about this just a few hours ago. -Have you ever found yourself in front of something or someone that’s so overwhelmingly beautiful that you just cry?- I have found myself craving for this moments, hunting them down and finding them in the simplest of things.

Climbing a mounting and with that sense of accomplishment along with a beautiful scenery makes the perfect Collateral Beauty moment.

I’ve had a few of this moments in my life but definitely 2017 was FILLED with them and I’m so grateful for the people, pets, places that took part of it!

It was a hard year but along with it I found myself been more grateful for the things I lost that were a burden for my personal growth, no attachment just let go with a big thank you. Also with such a hard time in our country I couldn’t be more bless to have the friends and family I have, and the many more I’ve made in such though times. There’s Collateral Beauty in that too. I cannot deny that the simplest of things become so damn important after a difficult time like the one we had this last September. Life is such a precious, wonderful, and rare thing. I’m just amazingly surprised I never saw it with the eyes I see it today. Can it be I’m finally becoming the person I always dream out to be? Or am I just getting old and going trough a midlife crisis?  Anyway… the best is yet to come. Happy 2018!

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