I said it out loud and now it is real: we are going to Puerto Rico.
I am Puerto Rican. This is not a vacation — this is a homecoming. And I have been building to this for years longer than I want to admit.
When I told my daughter, she went quiet for a second. Then: 'Mom. For real?' And I said for real. And she screamed. Not the dramatic theatrical scream she does when I buy more seeds. The real scream. The one that sounds like pure joy and disbelief mixed together.
We have been through a lot. This house has been through a lot. There are years in our story that were so hard I still cannot read them out loud without my voice catching. And in the middle of all of it, the dream of going to Puerto Rico — of bringing my daughter to the island where her roots live, letting her feel the air and hear the music and eat the food and understand something about herself that no living room conversation can fully teach — that dream never left.
Now we are going. This spring. I have started researching everything. Hotels near Old San Juan. Day trips to El Yunque. The food, God, the food. I have already had three mental arguments with myself about whether to rent a car.
My knees have been notified. They filed a counter-offer. I rejected it.
If you are planning a Puerto Rico trip or dreaming about one, start with where you are sleeping — everything else flows from there. I am looking at hotels close to Old San Juan because I want my daughter to be able to walk to the places I want her to see.
Here is the link for Puerto Rico hotels. Start here. Lock in your dates. The rest is details.
Buckle up, buttercup. Some dreams are not canceled by hard years — they are just delayed. Ours is finally departing.
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