The Art of Love
Una colcha, a quilt, that was the main ingredient in one of the most fun activities my siblings and I had when were little. It had small white and blue squares, like those we associate with picnic blankets, surrounding the squares were big red triangles. It was soft, and although a few years old, my parents had treated it carefully, still preserving its quality. The quilt was the first bed set my parents owned as a married couple, and which was given as a wedding gift. This quilt, an object of comfort and loving warmth, on many occasions became a symbol of my mother’s care.
I have never been afraid of singing, dancing, or speaking in front of an audience, and it is due in part to this particular activity. Hanging down from our very small living room was that blue blanket, set up by mami to give the illusion of the most elaborate concert stage. And there we were, Fernando, Camille, Emily – Frances not yet planned – the three of us performing our best hits: the sweet Jesusito de mi vida performed by Fernando, the captivating Abejita que Ronda sang by Camille, and the magicalLa Vuelta al Mundo en Gondola performed by me. As the grand finale, of course, we performed our favorite hit as a trio: the rap Mi Abuela.
Deja que te cuente para que tu veas no “wa” hablar de trabajo ni tampoco de la escuela. Aunque eso esta muy bien, eso lo se yo. Quiero que sepas tú lo mío pa’ que veas que es más peor…
Oh how fun it was to sing and dance to those songs. For my hit, I would replicate the dace steps that my favorite singer at the time did when she performed the song. She wasn’t famous; actually, she was just an aspiring teen singer featured in one episode of Titi Chagua, but I loved her, and I wanted to be like her. So, in this magnificent concert I moved around from side to side, making a circular movement with my arms, turning around, waving my extremely long hair, just like Esmeralda did in her performance. I was a star, or at least I thought so, and so were my siblings. We danced, jumping up and down, our eyes filled joy, and our faces full of laughter. I was swinging my hair from side to side, dressed up in that red and white dress embellished with necklaces and bracelets; I looked like a very young fashionista. Our clothes were certainly fashion statements; my sister was wearing purple tights, with neon green pants, and a shirt, and my brother had baggy pants and almost knee-high socks. Just looking at one picture of that day, those clothes we wore thinking we looked so cool, triggers a couple of laughs; we laugh so hard we almost cry. So much has changed since then.
The image of the quilt hanging in our living room remains fresh in my mind. It reminds me of those days when my worries were so simple, and when everything was fun. That colcha in the background made me and my siblings feel important, feel artistic, it allowed us to be ourselves – our crazy, weirdly-dressed selves. It transports me to my childhood, reminding me how beautiful and fun it was. It reminds me of the simple things in life; of the importance of not how much we have but how much we care about those around us. We did not have the latest toys, or brand name clothes, we did not have a lot, but we had enough, and we created fun with the simplest objects. The quilt, the colcha my mom used to hang in our living room makes me think about the love our parents gave us, and I thank them for teaching us to value what is important: not material things, but the time you spend with your loved ones. That is something that will remain with me forever, and that money cannot buy.
[In case you want to listen to our “hit” performed by the original rapper, here is a link to the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TbEVRVozf7M ]
Una colcha, a quilt, that was the main ingredient in one of the most fun activities my siblings and I had when were little. It had small white and blue squares, like those we associate with picnic blankets, surrounding the squares were big red triangles. It was soft, and although a few years old, my parents had treated it carefully, still preserving its quality. The quilt was the first bed set my parents owned as a married couple, and which was given as a wedding gift. This quilt, an object of comfort and loving warmth, on many occasions became a symbol of my mother’s care.
I have never been afraid of singing, dancing, or speaking in front of an audience, and it is due in part to this particular activity. Hanging down from our very small living room was that blue blanket, set up by mami to give the illusion of the most elaborate concert stage. And there we were, Fernando, Camille, Emily – Frances not yet planned – the three of us performing our best hits: the sweet Jesusito de mi vida performed by Fernando, the captivating Abejita que Ronda sang by Camille, and the magicalLa Vuelta al Mundo en Gondola performed by me. As the grand finale, of course, we performed our favorite hit as a trio: the rap Mi Abuela.
Deja que te cuente para que tu veas no “wa” hablar de trabajo ni tampoco de la escuela. Aunque eso esta muy bien, eso lo se yo. Quiero que sepas tú lo mío pa’ que veas que es más peor…
Oh how fun it was to sing and dance to those songs. For my hit, I would replicate the dace steps that my favorite singer at the time did when she performed the song. She wasn’t famous; actually, she was just an aspiring teen singer featured in one episode of Titi Chagua, but I loved her, and I wanted to be like her. So, in this magnificent concert I moved around from side to side, making a circular movement with my arms, turning around, waving my extremely long hair, just like Esmeralda did in her performance. I was a star, or at least I thought so, and so were my siblings. We danced, jumping up and down, our eyes filled joy, and our faces full of laughter. I was swinging my hair from side to side, dressed up in that red and white dress embellished with necklaces and bracelets; I looked like a very young fashionista. Our clothes were certainly fashion statements; my sister was wearing purple tights, with neon green pants, and a shirt, and my brother had baggy pants and almost knee-high socks. Just looking at one picture of that day, those clothes we wore thinking we looked so cool, triggers a couple of laughs; we laugh so hard we almost cry. So much has changed since then.
The image of the quilt hanging in our living room remains fresh in my mind. It reminds me of those days when my worries were so simple, and when everything was fun. That colcha in the background made me and my siblings feel important, feel artistic, it allowed us to be ourselves – our crazy, weirdly-dressed selves. It transports me to my childhood, reminding me how beautiful and fun it was. It reminds me of the simple things in life; of the importance of not how much we have but how much we care about those around us. We did not have the latest toys, or brand name clothes, we did not have a lot, but we had enough, and we created fun with the simplest objects. The quilt, the colcha my mom used to hang in our living room makes me think about the love our parents gave us, and I thank them for teaching us to value what is important: not material things, but the time you spend with your loved ones. That is something that will remain with me forever, and that money cannot buy.
[In case you want to listen to our “hit” performed by the original rapper, here is a link to the video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TbEVRVozf7M ]