salience

It's safe to say that I am in a contemplative place right now. "Crisis" is an extreme, alienating, instantaneous term, which can be applied to any situation really. And along the lines of treat-something-as-such-and-it-will-become-that mentality, I don't want to think of my life in that way.

Eight months later the full weight of the death of my abuela is hitting. And it's not a constant pain usually, it's triggered by memories. Last night I couldn't get what her handwriting looked like out of my head. I could't sleep because I kept hearing her laugh. And even though I was smiling, I was crying. And my mind kept returning to the image of her casket, and all of the pictures my cousin Lori had placed around her corpse of all of us, all together, doing so many things, with abuela. We didn't know she had done it until we went up to the kneeler to say goodbye at the viewing. And we knelt down, my cousin Cynthia and I together, as always, unsure of what exactly to do. It was so final, so last minute and then there we were, staring at us from the satin lining our parents chose...

It's an indescribable shock.

And maybe I'm just feeling it now because I'm so removed, time-wise, situation-wise. It bugged me so much that I couldn't cry at the funeral, like there was something wrong with me. Now I can't help it, I can't stop it. She's gone, but I remember her so clearly.

I'm going back to Alpharetta in a week. To maybe see mi hermano play, to maybe see my babies play. As much as I prepare myself, I know it's going to hurt, even more so than it does now. La mama's stuff will be gone. Her furniture fifteen minutes away. Her handwriting gone with the kitchen calendar. Her shoes in the entryway and by the back door no longer waiting for chores. Her closet will be a quarter full with clothes el papa still wears, but her counter in the bathroom will be bare. Her laundry will not be waiting by the washer nor dryer. All of these details I pictured whenever I thought of "home" have been erased.

This is mi familia now.
This is where I come from.

It's senior year and while the anticipation of the "real world" is setting in, I'm not panicking. Yes, I am not continuing with school, I will be getting a job. The idea is to make as much money in as little time as possible, preferably in the New York City area. Friends will be separated. My identity in the groups I've been a part of for the majority of mi vida will be dismantled. Life will go on and we will grow.

The tricky thing is, it's all one minute at a time.
Slow motion light capture of a scene that never slows down.