It's Never Goodbye It's Hasta Luego

I think it was around this birthday when I started having to do mental math to calculate my age.

There never seems to be enough time in the day.  Or night for that matter.  Every night after my body plummets onto the bed (and I do mean plummet literally in every sense of the word) I find myself thinking about the things that weren’t done today, that still have to be done tomorrow, that should be done at some point, and inevitably, the ones that were completely forgotten about until now.  It seems the latter are increasingly higher in number and frequency.  Maybe that’s due to old age.

Y sí, antes de que me maten con esa mirada…  I do also realize I’m only 34.  And for the most part 34 sounds and still feels pretty young.  Solo que the other day someone asked me if I would consider myself to be a Millennial.  The question was innocent enough and for the conversation we were having at the time it was very appropriate.  Still for a moment, before an answer could be mustered up in my mind and spoken out loud (for a split second), I had to seriously consider whether I was young enough to still fall under this age grouping.  You see, ever since my birthday two years ago, when people ask for my age there’s usually some hesitation involved, followed by my eyes rolling back into my head as I stare into the sky trying to mentally subtract whatever the current year is from 1979.  That’s the year I was born.

Eventually the number will come to me and again I am reminded como quién dice that I’m no spring chicken anymore.

That’s kind of a harsh reality to accept.  Even if elders are seen as wiser and meant to be respected in my culture… I don’t want to be one of them yet!  ¡Todavía tengo llantas que quemar!  That phrase may not make a lot of sense considering I just thought about it right now, and that it can easily be misconstrued to mean the other kind of tires around one’s waist also.  I have those too by the way.

What made me get all existential and stuff was the fact that my sister was in town for about a week recently, and that before we knew it the week was over and it was time to say our hasta prontos again.  You never do get used to saying goodbye to the people you love do you?  Sure, you get more accustomed to the idea of being miles apart, but there’s always a little sadness in knowing there might be months in between your next abrazo.  I’m kind of a sap and a few times hasta me he venido a la casa chillando like a big old baby singing sad country songs out loud on the freeway.

It’s my way of coping you could say.

Ever since I was kid, when it was time to leave my family behind in Mexico at the end of the summers, I would always choke up and tear up a little bit in the back of our truck, where no one could see me of course.  I knew we’d see each other again next year, but that next summer just wouldn’t ever come fast enough.

They aren’t only summers anymore, and time really does fly by.  Only not in the sense that it will stop when we want it to.  In the wisdom of my barely-a-Millenial-still-wisdom, el tiempo no perdona. 

However, the memories we make together can last us a lifetime.

I’m holding on to mine for as long as humanly possible!