teenage promises
ain't nothing changed not a damn thing bb
It made me sad as a kid that I wasn’t taken to Old San Juan as much as I wanted to. Before I got a car, I’d only been to OSJ maybe 3-4 times and that was due to school trips, and one morning with my aunt because my uncles were fist fighting.
And I just remember being at Nonos with you, my platonic love, and feeling like an adult. Something about being startled by the bouncer parked under the shadow of the arch that holds that heavy ass door. The guy asking for my id, telling myself to relax, I’m of age, I can be here! Walking up the steps next to you, letting the beat take over, starting to laugh for no reason, and entering the bar singing Gasolina at the top of our lungs. Taking in the Caribbean salt in every breath. The humidity intensifying our glow. We sat past the velvet rope, sat under the ceiling fan and ordered drinks.
“This is good light for pictures,” you said pointing at the chandelier in front of us. We were 18 and so grown we thought. We were certainly tough, stronger than we imagined. Life was about to change and in that moment we both knew it. I was so sure I’d become a lawyer, get into politics, have a publicized marriage and notorious divorce. Convinced I’d be the mayor of San Juan then trampolining into the governor that leads Puerto Rico to independence.
You were off to college in Utah. Dreams of journalism became plans for broadcasting and I had no doubts they’d materialize. We promised to stay the same, to be each others best friend at Nono’s balcony, overlooking the plaza where the brave conveyed and wrote poetry, where we documented our existence and shared it to Facebook, right away! We looked so good!!. It’s so vivid in my mind. That night I knew I had possibility because I was there with you. And now we’re about to be 35.
Only we know what it’s taken to overcome the abandonment of our parents. To conquer adolescent fears. The drive required to become educated and thrive in foreign land. To keep our worst instincts at bay and embrace the innocence of my cackle and your snort: faith, therapy, and the certainty of our friendship. Through the journey I chose to forget so I could overcome; a painful side effect of my condition.
Last time I went to Nonos was last year for my birthday, when I went back to reclaim the land. I stood on that balcony. Places, no matter how much time goes by, the memory is there. I held tight to the rail and dared to remember. I saw your turquoise eyes and your beaming smile while we danced. I saw the golden light emanating from the chandelier compliment your light. I thought about the dreams I had and what I sacrificed to become this 34 year old with tried skills and abilities to advocate and create change by being, sharing, caring. You, a broadcaster in Utah with a great job, a great husband, someone I consider a friend, taking care of your own, traveling the world. Everything is different but we’re still the same. In the plaza where the brave convey, we exist. Together. We always will.