“In a flight, freeze or flight response, negative memories stand out because the brain reacts impulsively to protect us. These are our triggers or blindspots that once brought to the light, they can be replaced with new ones, rewiring our neuropaths. This is the recollection of a sweet memory with Papi—Stay tune for more in my new book, Nideaquínideallá, I’m the Borderlands: A Goddess Journey from Trauma to Rebirth.“
“Caramelo, chupetines, bombón helado,” I spoke to my father, catching him early morning before he went to work in the city.
He smiled at me as he put his coat on. His black straight hair was wet, combed back. “Is that what you want today?”
I nodded. I always asked for more than one thing: candy, lollypops, and chocolate covered ice cream. My eagerness charmed him as I waved my arms in the air, still in my pajamas.
Whenever he went along with my game, he held my arms tight, stretched out. I raised my legs up his body and stretched my neck out for a flip.
“One more step,” he said. “There you go, put your head down. I’m holding you.” His grip was firm and safe. “You got it. Now do the somersault.”
As I let my body go backwards in a twist, I felt the touch of my hair covering my face. I was thrilled as I put my feet down. He let go of my arms and we both laughed.
In the evening, when he was back, I could spot my dad’s mischievous smile. I was determined to get what I wanted. “What did you bring me?” I stood with my arms on the hips. I knew he was hiding something.
He didn’t answer and held his grin while I searched his pockets.
“Is it here?” I moved as fast as I could.
“Hmmm.” He said. “Cold, cold.” I moved to the other pocket.
“Here?”
“Hmmm. Warmer.” He was now laughing.
Then I noticed his palms were closed behind his back.
I put my right hand under my chin with my index finger up. “I know.” I said. ”Let me see your hands.” I demanded.
He opened his right fist fast. “Hot,” He said and spread his fingers of the left hand slowly.
“The hippopotamus.” I jumped up and down. There it was, my chocolate prize. When I saw it, I smiled from ear to ear. Nestle milk chocolate bar, wrapped in a zoo-animal-figure paper sat on his palm. It meant the world to me, even though he didn’t remember to bring what I asked for: Caramelo, chupetines, bombón helado.
When women immigrate, we change our cycles and natural rhythms; we may be inundated by a sense of loss or transformation. It takes a while to get back in our two feet, especially if one’s identity depends on official documentation issued by the country we migrate to. This is the story of Paulina—an excerpt from my upcoming book, Nideaquínideallá, I’m From the Borderlands: A Goddess Journey from Trama to Rebirth.
