(Post translated from by spanish blog: Regreso a casa.)
A few months ago I returned from Dominican Republic where I was on vacation. It’s difficult to describe what I feel towards my hometown. Although I miss it, it seems that as more time goes by, the more I distance myself from it. Maybe what I love is the memory of it, the high school and college years, the place it once was, the girl I was back then.
A few months ago I returned from Dominican Republic where I was on vacation. It’s difficult to describe what I feel towards my hometown. Although I miss it, it seems that as more time goes by, the more I distance myself from it. Maybe what I love is the memory of it, the high school and college years, the place it once was, the girl I was back then.
As I left the airport with my parents, I had this strange feeling of not belonging, I was home and yet it didn’t feel like home. The city had changed since my last visit: on my way to my parent’s house I encountered a new highway, new cemetery, businesses and buildings that did not exist before. The city had grown, it seemed like another. I would’ve liked to roam the streets with my camera, return to the places I frequented once, reconcile my past with my present but I couldn’t get myself to do it. The sense of insecurity was stronger than the love I feel for this country. Perhaps I exaggerate and put much thought into it because of the violence I’ve heard of recently. It’s sad to know that I don’t feel the freedom and tranquility I did when I lived there as a teenager. Some people (like my mom) refuse to live afraid and don’t think much of the situation. And, yes, I get her point but it’s hard to accept these changes and when my heart is anchored to the past.
Nowadays, when I’m in Santiago I enjoy it because my girls love it and are happy there. For them, it’s another world in which every day there is something new to be discovered and experienced, like pick mangoes from trees, play with chicks and fallen leaves, jump in puddles and watch their wet footprints magically appear on the cement, carry and chase my aunt’s dogs, jump over beach waves, help grandma take down clean laundry, eat breakfast outdoors and feed the parrot. Small and everyday things that is so much more appreciated after a long and brutal winter.
Here, a few pics of our time there:
