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Muy Tranquilo. Very Tranquil

Cerro de la Silla (Saddle Hill) in Monterrey MX

My graphic design project this week has me focusing on Hispanic heritage month coming up in September. This coupled with the upcoming anniversary of my Dads passing lingering in my mind and my future birthday have me a bit nostalgic. If I get up early enough and find myself in just the right spots in the neighborhood I am reminded of Monterrey. It makes me yearn for the slow pace of Nuevo Leon. The smells, the sights, the people, the sounds...cars beeping mixed with the sound of horse hooves on the broken roads. The unslickness and simple humble beauty of everything. Lime trees and roses, cultivated wherever they can be. Families gathered on porches and streets, enjoying each other company. "Nights out" were spent at a family members house, eating, singing, conversating and being involved in their lives. It wasn't sitting at a bar, disconnected from the real people who care about you and wasting money on overpriced drinks with clever names. 
Homes were spare of fancy clutter and technological junk. Importance was placed on the photos of loved ones, hanging reverently and remembered even if they are no longer walking the earth with us. Computers weren't treated as another family member and didn't take up much of your time at all, if any. Things in the house were needed and used and kept orderly. You respected the little things you had because they were hard earned. Everywhere the sign of hard work was apparent. People were selling what they could wherever they could. Food vendors right in front of your house. A man selling religious statues on the corner. A woman selling jewelry from the front window of her house. You never knew what you would find when you turned a street corner. Children played and laughed outside, buses rattled loudly. Dirt streets merged with paved streets, donkeys and horses walked alongside cars. Rising high above the city, watching everything very tranquilly were the mountains. The "Cerro de la Silla" permanently burned like a coat of arms on everyone in it's shadow.A constant reminder of how small we are.  This is my fathers land. Although I wasn't born there it feels like home to me. I can stay away for 20 years and come back to open arms, a pillow to lay my head on, a hot meal and people who are kind. My people too. I don't always understand what they are saying but I feel what they are saying. It's been two years since I have seen the beautiful mountains and my family there. I miss it and long for it's little children, laughing in the streets, peeking their heads around corners...curious about you yet unafraid. After all, you are family.






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