An object that is symbolic of my identity and heritage is the sign marking the entrance to my small sector in Puerto Rico. This entrance sign means so much to me because every time I go to visit, I see this sign as I’m about to enter the place which I call home. Every person that lives in this sector is either related to me, or we’ve known each other for so long that we treat each other like family. My family has lived in the area for over a hundred years. As soon as I pass this sign, memories of my happy childhood instantly flood my mind. I remember running around as a child with the neighborhood kids, walking to church with my mother and grandmother, the Christmas festivities, the get-togethers, the dance parties, jokes, trips to the river, and so much more. I remember everything. As I travel down the road I have traveled so many times before, I always contemplate how things have changed. The elders have gotten older and grayer, the children taller and slimmer, and the grass tangled and leafy. Every time I visit, I see fewer and fewer people. Every time, it is quieter and quieter. Yet, everywhere I look, I see the old lady who sold candy on the corner, the old man who sat next to the mailboxes and greeted everyone good morning. Once I reach my grandmother’s home, she greets with me the hug she’s been wishing to give me for months, sometimes years. Then, I realize that she’s the only person I need to really feel at home.
– Kevin Delgado