Last week I spent “my weekend” (Thur. July 19th & Fri. 20th) at my compadre’s small and cozy studio apartment. I woke up one morning to the peculiar sounds that reminded me of places that I’ve resided and have been an influence to who I am today.
One of those sounds was a rake. At first I did not make anything of it, but it was so quite I was finally benefiting by staying in bed and found myself traveling back in time to Dallas, TX. The rake took me back to the times where I assisted with the weekend chores; mowing the lawn, raking the leaves and in the background I can see my t-shirtless father also doing his part, plus my Ma and sis cleaning inside of the house and the music blasting. Sometimes it was to Cheap Trick, Blondie, Culture Club and other times it was El Gran Combo, Johnny Ventura, Willie Colon & Wilfrido Vargas. For a still moment in time, the rake was keeping me in Dallas, but then I noticed the passing cars and I went into another time capsule.
This took me to my first visit to Puerto Rico (ten years old) ever since I left when I was one or two years of age. I recalled the first time I learned how to play solitaire on the plane ride. I remember when I was introduced to someone and feeling the warmth of a “stranger’s” hug, the welcoming of a handshake and the acceptance of a beso to the cheek. The passing cars reminded me of the closeness of my family in Puerto Rico. I can smell my grandmother’s cooking and the bread from the bakery behind the barrio. The swooshes and horns were taking me back to where I used to hang out with my cousins and uncles at the liquor store. While they drank and laughed, I enjoyed Coco Ricos and Piña Buenas (my second addiction, after music). I brought to mind the time my cousins wanted all my cassettes I took with me to Ponce. Going back to those tapes now, they had Pink Floyd, Motley Crue, Duran Duran, Pat Benatar, Wham!, Simple Minds, Sade, Tears for Fears, Madonna, Beastie Boys, A-Ha, INXS, U2, Pet Shop Boys, the list goes on-and-on. Some songs were taking straight from the radio (I was ten). The squealing brakes were evoking the images and sounds of a mini breed of gooses my grandmother had in her front yard... ‘till this day I do not get why she had ganzos as pets.
After reminiscing through my early years I found myself fine tuning the sounds that were coming by means of waves through the cement walls and was all of a sudden surfing my way into the sounds of a broom sweeping the concrete. This was a relaxing sound for my next journey, a passage through La Vega, Dominican Republic. Surprisingly here is where I would become somewhat of “a man”. The broom really swept me away, took me to my first ever DJ party, my first scooter accident… actually, my first everything. For some reason or other the quiet time in bed was enhancing my hearing and at the same time making me recollect positive memories from some time ago. “Ah, if only I can hop on that broom”, I thought to myself while staring at the ceiling. Unexpectedly I hear footsteps above me of some high heels walking on the wooden shallow floor. Around the third step I was transported to Winter Park, FL.
Some great memories in Winter Park, FL. My first time all to myself (with a noisy neighbor) and discovering a new city: from indie movies, art and music festivals to fashion. The clattering sound was a flashback like no other. Here I ran my own store, volunteered at movie festivals and organized groups for charity events and a memorable mishap with Orlando authorities. Went to all possible concerts and music festivals I wanted. Out of all the flashbacks, I think I could have done more in this time, but due to career opportunities, I came back to Miami, and now I find myself creating new memories with my loving family.
That Friday morning I took my mini autobiography to the beach and listened to an all new soundtrack. It was a grand weekend indeed, most importantly, I found myself wishing I can have more times like that Friday morning, waking up to the quiet sounds of my own recordings that would take me back to my most treasured memories.PS: "My Weekend" Soundtrack playlist to follow
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We go through different paths in our lives, and in our journey we see beautiful and not so beautiful things. I assure you that the less charming parts would be taking in a better light with good company. Therefore, sometimes I ask myself... "if I have really been there for friends and love ones when they have gone through a dark tunnel?", worse yet, "have I been the tunnel". As our society falls into the realms of narcissism and becomes more in tune with their outer self, we strive away from how big of an impact we can make on others. Even though I believe that a reasonable amount of healthy narcissism allows the 
