Note: This was written in May ’22, and originally posted on my old blog.
I could start the story by giving you the feelings
of knowing that I would be leaving for long
of all the goodbyes
and the see you soons
and the see you nevers
Some too painful to retrieve
some gentle, some kind
some forever
some light and don’t mind them out of my life,
all of the necessary for the step I am taking
from both solid homes I leaving behind.
A prediction, a fall, a journey, a protest, a dog walk, a reunion, a song, a home found-again, a home that shrank in the wash long ago- too short to now wear-, a road trip, a blanket fort
old life ghosts, a graduation, a death, a birthday, a walk, a grief- grief grief grief-, baby seals, letters given, letters taken, feelings held, photos taken, a hello and goodbye outside a pub crawl.
Scarce salvaged photos I don’t want to check out, or share,
are not displayed here.
“What can I tell you Naf, I am sorry, blame the blockade, blame the Americans, blame our government, since the special period…”
upon the news of the loss of all past year’s photos pre-travels, during a good ol’ powercut that occurs
on a daily basis- such old news for all Cubanos-
the lack of dinero/money to pay for gasoline
the fall of the Berlin wall
a pandemia
a Russian war
and my photos are gone.
It doesn’t even seem relevant anymore,
I was not bothered.
I carried enough privilege with me as it was.
A burnt memory disk would not have me crying over it,
in the middle of La Sierra Maestra
where the revolutionaries hid
and planned of change
((that looks more like hunger these days.)
What I can tell you is
about the homes that I realised I was carrying with me
on a 10-hour flight.
I thought:
I’ve brought my whole wide self
all the way across the world,
alone,
but I am not alone, not at all
for my parents made me, my clothes were cleaned by Kirsty, my hair cut and henna-ed by Tanika, my tummy filled by the community, my mask put on by Ella, my notebook started by Morgan and my waist bag set up, Nafsisah painted my toes
all the medicine sorted out by Thanos and Katerina in all-nighter of goodbyes, the “We Love You” note in my pocket left on the side of the train door by Ayse as it was closing, my sensitivity daily enchanted by Alk and all the endless unconditional love by (pappous and) yiayia,
a brunch, a long nouna hug filled with stories, my (still broken) Spanish shaped by Sonia, ‘save some for the flight’ spicy noodles by Steve, a reality-check conversation in the car Lucy held, a notebook of recommendations from all the people I met
and the list could go on and on and on
“so much of me
is made out of
so much of you”,
I said in the living room twice in a row,
two nights ago.
And just like that,
I left and carried,
all homes.