Why Don’t You Stay?


The moon glistened, and the fireflies roamed across the street on my grandfathers land. There he kept his chickens, his cows, his grown vegetables and plantains. The lights have gone out, and I remember being frightened. My mom used to tell my siblings and I stories of how fireflies were the spirits of those who have passed away.

I thought this was true and I was terrified of them coming to close. That night no fireflies flew into our home, and the lights still remained off. Everyone in the neighborhood sat on their porches waiting for the electricity to come back on. 

It was beautifully cool that night. The stars shinned bright. I remember thinking how beautiful my parents birthplace was. I never see stars in New York I told my grandmother. 

My father sat in a plastic chair on the porch talking to my grandfather about his businesses and the life of a New Yorker. “Life over there is crazy,” he said. My father took a sip of his coconut water and said, “I appreciate the United States. It has given my children and I a lot of opportunities but I miss my country.” 

My grandmother told my parents, “Why don’t you guys stay?” They both looked at each other and said, “The children. They were born over there. They barely can speak Spanish right.” They laughed.

My grandmother cried every time we left back to the States. I never forget seeing her from outside the car window, waving and crying. How much I miss her. Sometimes I wonder what life would’ve been if I did stay and lived those last few years she had with her.

Its crazy, one moment she was alive asking over the phone when we were going to go visit her and now when I go over there all I have left to visit is her grave.

Somedays I feel like I can still feel her presence when I smell a certain perfume or see a firefly or butterfly.

I used to be scared of spirits visiting but now I know if she visits I am safe.

On days when I miss her, I think about that day. The lights out, the cool breeze, my dad drinking his coconut water, me staring at the fireflies and my grandmother asking why don’t we stay?

To the Past who Believed in me


silhouette photo of trees

Photo by Jonathan Aman on Pexels.com

Trees, clouds, and open terrain.

My life was complete with you holding my hand.

When I cried, there you were to open my eyes and show me the world wasn’t as bad.

Sunshine, love and summer breeze.

There you played with my hair under a big old tree.

Summer, love and palm trees.

My head spun as we skated down the street.

My younger years were with you by my side.

All I hope now is that where ever you are, whoever you are with, you would never lose your worth.

Hugs, love, teenage dreams.

May you believe in yourself always, the way you believed in me…



Sometimes in life, we have to cross bridges, build bridges and destroy a couple bridges. It’s painful to destroy a couple of them because we can’t no longer reach that thing that hurts us but gives us so much comfort at the same time.

Burning bridges takes a lot of strength, a lot of heartaches. It’s a process that feels like it’s breaking us with it. But this is necessary.

Once you destroy that bridge, you can build a new one. A bigger, brighter one. Create a scenery of flowers and flowing water around it. Let it lead you to a brighter and bigger future.

Some bridges fall, but only the ones we really need stay put. Just look around. Do you like what you see around that bridge you are walking on?


Through the lens of a child


I love October, November, and December.

I have so many memories associated with those months.

My first Halloween party was in preschool and guess what my mother dressed me up as.

A chicken.

I had the feathers and the chicken head.

I looked like a miniature big bird.

My mother says I picked that costume out.

That story always makes me laugh.

I threw up in my costume that day because I ate too much candy of course.

Even as a child I was prone to make my whole class stare at me.

I didn’t care though.

All that mattered was the candy I was bringing home.

That didn’t matter, I love when she tells me that story because It takes me back to a time where all I cared about in life was dressing up and candy.

November is great for me because when I was a child in school we would have Thanksgiving meals.

The parents would cook for us and we would have a smorgasbord of multicultural meals.

I would eat so much.

My mother on Thanksgiving would cook for us a Dominican styled meal.

The pernil, the Arroz de moro, the potato salad, and the list just keeps going.

Takes me back to a simpler time, when the family was united and the world wasn’t lost, at least for me at that time.

Christmas, oh boy.

I loved it because my family would get together, adults would drink some wine.

Us kids would drink juice, soda, and have lots of food.

The table would look beautiful with that big Dominican meal.

I would play holiday music all day long.

They had the holiday movie specials on t.v.

These are memories I will never forget.

These months bring memories to me that I adore.

This is a time in which the world stops being cynical and becomes innocent.

For the next three months, I’ll be a child in an adults body.

An adult looking through the lens of innocence…