This year, I haven’t written very much about Hispanic Heritage Month. Well, I haven’t written very much at all. But for the first time in as long as I can remember the month known as Hispanic Heritage Month has arrived and it hasn’t inspired so much as a second thought from me.
It’s getting no, and not taking it for an answer.
It’s being told that you can’t, and figuring out how to do it anyway.
It’s being willing to work.
It’s being willing to sacrifice.
It’s a little unusual traveling to a country that feels like home and having to register as a foreign national. That’s the first thought that crossed my mind when I was told I would need to fill out the proper paperwork to be allowed into Mexico for a few days. This would be my first time visiting Mexico City. There would be many other instances on this trip in which the fact that I was not born and raised in this country would become painfully obvious. The word “painfully” is used here on purpose because when people ask where I am from I like to say “I am Mexican.”
No matter how many times you tuck them away in the back of your closet, underneath all the newer pairs of shoes you’ve accumulated over the years, there’s just something that nudges at you to pull them out and put them on every once in a while.
A lot of times the things that make us who we are have been there all along.
We tend to spend so much time trying to discover ourselves, or trying to define who we are. But often it is the case that when you achieve that pivotal moment where you understand who you truly are, you realize that deep inside you knew it all along.
We are constantly in search of ourselves, and we seldomly ask ourselves this question: Do I really need to look that far?
Louisiana is always the life of the party. Our neighbor to the north is also always an easy getaway for us Texans when we’re seeking just a little more color in our days. At just a few hours of distance from Houston, for me, it is a travel destination of choice for long weekends or even same day road trips. It’s the perfect place to travel with friends or just your significant other.
It’s a brand new day for Anjelica in our home these days. Her little boy who once used to revel at any opportunity to cuddle next to her and talk about his day – and seemingly his every thought – is now almost a young man. Or as he would have us believe, a man (albeit a very young one at that). These days I’m his confidant in our family unit.
It took me three years to make it to Denver to visit my brother and the first thought to cross my mind after boarding my return flight back to Houston was, “why did it take me so long?” Besides having an incredible time just reconnecting with my kid brother – he’s two years my junior and the youngest man in the family – the city of Denver did kind of charm me and my son Edgar into wanting to visit again soon. This was our first solo trip as father and son, and it was definitely a memorable one.