Journal notes. 070317.

1. I am still that boy who walked the halls of my high school. To have made friends, to have spent time with them. To have lived a life worth living, doing things which, in the end, are the only things that matter in life.

2. I find it hard at the present to bring my life story together. I laughed at realizing that I simply cannot recollect with a certain continuity the details of my life after I migrated to the US. It is as if I have lived two separate worlds, and that no matter what I do, it continues to remain disjointed.

3. But I am slowly reconnecting the dots. I can feel it in my veins. And at those moments that I come close to bringing together my present and my past, it is not laughter I find but rather teary eyes, something similar to when you finally met a long lost friend once again. In my mind I ask him “why?” then I come quick to escape the moment to reconcile. I am not over it yet.

4. I had a conversation with a friend who had the fancy of receiving a poem from somebody. Funny, just the day before, I wrote her a poem. My only problem is I lost my notes somewhere.

5. I met an Ecuadorian in New York when I was visiting. He was my “train buddy.” We talked about the effect of migration on our families and ourselves. We laughed at Chavez calling Bush ‘El Diablo’ and how he smells like ‘el sulfur’. All in all, it was a heartful interchange, and we even talked about the beautiful New York women (and they definitely are!). I was gonna take a cab to the airport after the train, and he was hesitant to ride along as he was going towards the same direction anyway. He declined my assistance. The last thing I saw was he shook my hands, gave me a smile, and said, “So this is it, Alejandro. Good luck to you. Have a good life.” And that was it. His name is Carlos.