There was quite a bit of drama leading up to this moment, but to make a long story short: I was in the middle of driving an-hour-and-a-half from the office to a clients house to handle some stuff for work. At first I was furious that I was going to have to take the whole afternoon off from my busy office schedule to do this, but as I set my tunes and hit the freeway I realized how stupid I was for complaining: I was out of the office! It reminded me of how much I enjoyed being on the road when most people were stuck in an office, behind a desk. There's something liberating about driving down a street at 10am, or 2pm, when the norms of society are yelling at your body: you shouldn't be here!!!
This trip was also quite an experience for a few other reasons. For those who read this blog and don't live anywhere near me, nor have ever lived anywhere near me (bless your hearts for reading), I live in a county that is sorely lacking in diversity, and it shows. This trip reminded me of the bubble that I live in. It was almost like crossing a border into another country. The streets are smaller, more people walking, different colored faces, people everywhere just trying to survive. It was good to be reminded.
When I got the the clients house it was almost like going back in time: I found myself in my great-aunt's house, or my grandmother's neighbors house in Guatemala: the plastic cover over the furniture and dining room table, the religious icons all over the house, the "recuerditos" from baptisms, weddings, and quinceneras all over the house, the clutter on the walls. There's a certain "feeling" of hispanic homes that I had missed for a while, and I felt strangely comfortable in this strangers home.
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