I posted this picture on Instagram this morning. Sometimes on our morning walks, as the soft light breaks through the trees, I try to imagine our town through MY daughters eyes.
I try to imagine, what does she see?
Lots of doggies roaming the streets, doggies without collars or leashes, or owners • puddles of rain water from yesterday’s downpour • los ninos walking hand in hand with their moms, bundled up with hats and jackets por el frio • loud motorcycles buzzing by usually with at least three people holding on tightly • the subtle smell of bus exhaust • the gas truck blaring “zeta gaaaas” • women balencing large buckets balenced on their heads walking toward the pila • the señora selling pan from her canasta • the man hanging off the back of the bus yelling, “tigua-tigua” in his sing-songy voice • Tall cement store fronts and cornstalk walls • the blue tigo sign • the brightly colored flowers • the big orange cathedral •
These are the things that my daughter will grow up seeing as normal. This town will be, her normal. This is sometimes still a new idea for me.
What’s foreign to me, will be normal to her.
P.S. This is part of my own little take on a yearly series called Project 52: My Town. You can read some of the other posts here.
