my spanish blood

In two short weeks I will be traveling to the home of my Mothers people.

La Linea De La Conception. Cadiz, Spain.

My Grandmother, Juana was born there, as were all of her ancestors.

My Grandmother... Juana Perez Bueno, November 8th 1925.

My Grandfather, Manolo, was born in Gibralter, the Rock of Gibralter.

He eventually moved across the frontier into Spain where he met his wife to be, the woman who would bear him two beautiful children, the woman who would change his life forever, his Gitana, his Juana.

Together they fled Franco's Spain. 

They boarded a great Italian liner on the 28th of March, 1930 ~two tickets , biglietto di Seconda Classe Economica~

And so began the beginning of their American dream.

As some of you may know, my Puerto Rican roots are still unfolding right in front of my eyes, magically and with much adventure and insight.

But my Spanish blood..... ah my Spanish blood beats in me in a manner that I can barely describe to you.

My Spanish blood feels as though each drop contains all the worlds tears.

As though each drop holds centuries of history and memories.

Each drop is that of a warriors.

Each drop is that of lover and a killer.

It truly feels as though each drop is the perfect tiny union of life and death itself.

My Spanish blood is proud and defiant and whimsical all at once.

My cousin and I. La Linea Spain, July 1969.

I will soon share my history with my amazing Husband.

He knows that he married a Gitano, like my Grandfather.

We will walk the streets of Granada and Sevilla and La Linea.

We will see and feel Spain as my ancestors did.

My eyes will finally see what my blood has always felt.

Namaste