There’s a reason why there are so many songs about “change.” Outside of the genre of love, change – and our in/ability to cope with it – is often a subject of human interest. What was once there is no longer. The relationship that flourished is now stagnant. The soil that was once ripe for tilling is now overturned with rocks. The closet’s door that always had to be shut at night now swings open with ease.
I used to be identify Republican (I know…I know…) when I was a roaring 8 year old, listening to political debates with my Dad. I used to think that when the sun shined in our living room, the dust particles were fairies protecting me and my family. During grade school recess, I was told to go back to my own country, and I believed I wasn’t supposed to be in the United States because of my brown skin. I used to envy smokers, write political letters addressed to the world, and signed up for every kind of march in D.C. once I was on my own.
I identify independent now and listen to Sinatra with my Dad. I’m allergic to dust and believe I have every right to live where I am. I tried smoking and quit, write political letters addressed to the world, and walk with my son around the neighborhood telling him about the revelations of Latin America and the Philippine cultures.
Who were you before? Who are you now?