The Journal Entry from the Beginning of Time or, The Journal Entry of New Beginnings. March 30, 2019.

A Journal Entry from the Beginning of Time or, The Journal Entry of New Beginnings.

El 30 de marzo de 2019.


Last night I spoke with my dad on the phone for almost two hours. Feet up on the sofa, the beauty and chaos of Mexico City in the background, laughter from my dad and me vibrating off every corner in my hotel room. Yesterday my mom called me to tell me about her day and I swear I could hear her smile. My little brother graduates from college in a month. My little cousin is getting married in September. I am moving to one of my favorite cities in the world, just finished my first semester of graduate school and… we are growing older.

It is poetic to have a loving relationship with your parents, your little brother, your little cousin. Time will show that the money and career are not as important as you think. Time will show that poetry comes from overcoming, lessons that did not make sense, from crossing borders.

You begin to realize what is truly important, the things that make you feel alive, keep you awake at night when the moonlight hugs your pillow, the things you discuss excitedly with that sparkle in your eye.

It is pen on paper, a book in hand, my mother’s jokes after a long day, my father’s advice and daily quotes in our family’s group chat. It is my favorite artist dropping a mixtape on a Wednesday morning before heading to work.

It is a meme from my brother, the “I was just thinking about you” text that flashes across the screen from a friend living on the same continent or on the other side of the world.

A cross country, six-day road trip with my dad.

The Less I Know The Better by Tame Impala blasting at 3AM. Lianne La Havas’ soulful voice bouncing around a room.

Or, being able to walk outside and feel the wind on your face, birds chirping, children playing.

It is a 16-minute-long WhatsApp message from one of my closest friends, her son in the background laughing as they go down the slide together. It is an Uber driver introducing me to his favorite cumbia band. It is running around with my dog at the park. A genuine and kind “welcome to the team” introduction from a new supervisor.


It is a new beginning.


The scent of my favorite candle from Target, approving visas of a family heading to Disney World, the 11-year-old excited to go to the Girl Scout Jamboree and the way she grabbed the counter and smiled when I told her the visa was approved last Tuesday around 9AM. It is my little cousin calling to say hello, a lunch date on a Thursday, and watching a close friend fall in love or be excited about the possibility with someone new.

It is the childhood pictures my parents found that I’ve never laid my eyes on, a bicycle ride down a vehicle free street on a Sunday morning, the smell as I open the door of my favorite coffee shop, the restaurant within walking distance from work that has the best Spotify music playlist I’ve ever heard and the loudest music ever played in a restaurant, rereading my favorite book that my brother gave me last year for Christmas, a plane ride with a baby in the seat in front of me making silly faces. It is life, itself.

It is two worlds colliding, holding a colorful cup of coffee while watching the sunrise, sitting in a park watching leaves fall and couples fall in love, taking the plastic off of a new journal, the smell of a new book, realizing I sometimes pronounce my name with an accent.

It is my family and friends, it is those I have only met in crossing like the girl at the torta restaurant with the cool, circular black earrings who might be a new friend.

It is new beginnings, new opportunities, a new place to learn, to grow, to make a home, a mix of Spanish accents in my mouth, it is the sunset at 6:43 on a Tuesday evening.

So, you ask, what is better than coming home to yourself? Nada.


I feel more creative when I am loved.




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