Visions in a Flash
Spare me, a moment.
I saw Michelle Bachelet waving to the crowd, to me, in a convertible passing by as if she were in a movie reel in slow motion. Chileans screamed, te amo Michelle, and I cried a little bit because it seemed like I could almost touch her hand, even though I was too far away. I thought of the Chilean mountains that I saw out of my airplane window, a moment when reality held dream’s hand.
Four stray dogs walked by my side one night on my way home in the dark, aimlessly following another human at night, but to me, on my way home alone, they could have been my best friends. That night, I slept easy for the type of luck that followed me to my doorstep.
I left the house one day with my map and a notebook from class and found myself wandering around the city with my head in the clouds and the map in my hand, turning down every road I came across. I think one day, if my map survives its creases and folds, that I might frame it, because it might be one of the most important things that I own.
I danced with the best dancer I have seen in Chile at a club, and after promising him two songs, I gave him three. And I didn’t even realize it until I snapped out of what seemed like a dream. He spun me around until I started laughing a little bit. I don’t think I will ever see him again.
I thought of all of my friends from high school and wished that they could see through my eyes. The mothers, the fathers, the dead, the faces forgotten not too long ago, the dreamers, and the jaded. Privilege has many faces, but I don’t want to the person that wraps it around me like a blanket; how did I get here? Is this what getting older feels like?
Chile is as bright as I always imagined it would be.