I have a theory that every human being is actually powered by nostalgia. We collect things that remind us of our childhood, we keep photos and letters to relive distant memories, and we visit places that make us remember the best years of our life. I still live in the same place I grew up in, but the emotions I used to feel during my childhood have drastically changed through time.
Sitting in the balcony of one of my tías, I visualize the five-year-old me running around the backyard with all of my cousins. We are playing escondite, hiding behind the huge tires of a broken truck, between the bushes, or behind a house. When we get bored, we play 123 pescao’ and whenever someone cheats, they scream “¡Tenki!” Grandma calls us to have lunch and although we say we’re not hungry as an excuse to keep playing, we devour the plates that were once full of root vegetables and corned beef. My little cousin and I sit on the floor, right in front of the TV, to watch Dragon Ball Z and Pokemon, because Abuela told us that if we go out to play again, right after finishing eating, we will have maldigestion. We enjoyed watching local TV. The series presented by El Chevy—Cyberchase, Dragon Tales, Arthur, Caillou, Maya & Miguel—were our favorite. Around 5PM we go out again, meet with our cousins, and start playing El ángel. Our parents are trying to watch the news and all they can hear is us screaming:
“DING DONG!”
“WHO IS IT?”
“THE ANGEL”
“WHAT ARE YOU LOOKING FOR?”
“A RIBBON”
“WHAT COLOR?”
And, if the angel guessed the color one of us had in mind, we started running so as to not get caught.
As I smile in remembrance of all those times, one of my aunts—whose hair now is white—pats my back, as if she could also see the memories. Before, there were all the kids who used to play around the backyard, but, now, there’s only grown-up me left. Most of them already built families or left the country in search of a better life, but we all cherish the memories of when we were young and happy anyway.
As a child, growing up in the countryside was a daily adventure: exploring around the woods, watching the cows graze, running to the colmadito to buy candy after getting out of school. Something so simple as finding and repurposing a cardboard box had the potential of making my day much more exciting. The box could become a fortress, a house, or even a car! I remember this one time, when there was a hole in the middle of the road, and it was so deep that water started coming out of it, so we decided to use it as a pool. One of my uncles watched over us as each cousin jumped into the hole or wet their feet. When scooters were the trend, we got some for Christmas and rode them down the hill, and yes, some of us had accidents, but we survived!
Another fun part of growing up in the countryside is having unusual pets. For example, I owned ducks, and they were the cutest. My cousin had a pet goose that used to chase us to try and bite us. Some of the cousins had bruises on their butt cheeks because the goose managed to catch them, and it was really funny! I also used to catch, feed, and watch caterpillars become beautiful butterflies shortly before letting them free. I also had a rooster called Valentino who was once a dyed baby chick I won at a Turkey Trot, and one of my cousins even had a pet iguana. You’d be surprised if I keep telling you what other countryside creatures we had as pets.
I used to be one of the calmest kids. I barely talked or caused trouble, but if I was a pro on something, it was on scraping my knees. I was always on the ground! I don’t know why I fell so much, but my knees were always wrapped in bandages. Because of its inevitable frequency, this look became my childhood trademark. After thinking it through, I now believe the falling phenomenon was actually due to the fact that my feet were too small for my body.
Occasionally, my grandma and her sisters would plan a trip to their old house. This was the ultimate adventure for us little kids. Despite the house being located deep inside the woods, we always remembered the way there. It was an expedition of nostalgia. We would walk for long hours, but the view was so amazing that we didn’t mind or get tired. We were surrounded by plants we weren’t used to seeing, and we got to watch animals such as coquís, bees, and frogs from up close. When we got to the house, it was like entering a fairytale portal. There were mushrooms on the ground, and the tiny home was surrounded by the tallest trees. A ray of sunshine illuminated the place, like a spotlight. The house was disheveled, but it was still magical. Inside, there remained the sofa my grandma left behind and what was once the kitchen counter. As a kid, I couldn’t understand the look on my abuela’s face; but now, as a grown-up, I know it was nostalgia all along. A little further behind, on the rear-facing side of the house, there was a small stream. Grandma told us they used to go there to get water and that it used to be so clear, they could drink it. Of course, over the years and with pollution, the water got full of mud.
The loveliest memory I have is during Christmas time. The whole family reunited at Grandma’s house on Christmas Eve—I don’t even know how we fit in there because we were a lot—to eat lechón asao’, with arroz con gandules, and pasteles. Every year, we made a gift exchange in honor of the Secret Santa tradition, or as we liked to call it, el papelito. We, the kids, used to get anxious to open the presents and to know who had our papelito, so our parents would send us off to play around. We waited until 12AM to start the gift exchange because that way, the kids would end up tired and we would sleep soundlessly waiting for Santa. On Christmas, we reunited again to share the toys Santa brought. The background music of the party was always my Grandpa, who loved Christmas because he was a musician. Because he enjoyed playing so much, he would go around playing Christmas aguinaldos on his cuatro during the parrandas (the Puerto Rican version of the caroling tradition).
Grandpa was also a crucial part of my childhood. When I was little, he used to go to the supermarket and buy me ice cream every single day. He was the one who would tell us the urban legends, and he would even invent stories to make us laugh. You know that grandmas have this habit of giving you money secretly, as if they’re trafficking something? At casa de Abuela, it was my grandpa who sneakily handed money to the kids. Whenever he could afford to, my Grandpa would give us a dollar or five, so we could buy ourselves some candy. I would give anything to relive my childhood years. Everything seemed to be so magical and at least there wasn’t anything to worry about. Casa de Abuela is and will always be my safe place, considering the fact that I still visit whenever I feel anxious, sad, angry, or frustrated. Grandma always seems to have the solution to everything, even if she doesn’t say anything. Just seeing her around the house while she hums a bolero is enough to bring me peace.